Fractured Legacy
by HeartEyes4Mariska
Summary: A post-ep for Season 10's "Lunacy", that will also touch on other episodes spanning from "Paternity" to mid-Season 10. In the aftermath of finding out his childhood hero is a killer, Elliot has much to process - not the least of which will be seeing Liv in that blue dress. I love reviews! E/O
1. I

**Fractured Legacy**

 **A/N: I've always loved the Season 10 episode "Lunacy". Personally, I find that after the birth of Eli, Elliot and Olivia's relationship in late Season 9 and through Season 10 was noticeably more possessive. Elliot saying, "Like I need the competition," in Lunacy has tickled me since the first day I ever saw the episode. So I thought, for my second SVU outing, I'd try a post-ep. Not sure yet how long it will be, or really what direction I'm aiming for, but here's the first chapter. I do love reviews! Pairing is E/O, since that's all I'm interested in writing currently .**

 **Rating: M**

 **Spoilers: Major spoilers for Closet, Swing, Lunacy**

 **Disclaimer: Characters belong to Dick Wolf, not myself. No copyright infringement intended, and no money is being made.**

Elliot raised the highball glass of scotch in his hand and pressed it gently to the cut on his cheek that was now swollen, hoping the ice in the glass would bring a little relief. His face wasn't the only thing bruised since the brawl with Finley - his pride, his ego, and his reliance on the routine within his family that he had worked hard to build had all also taken a heavy hit.

Leaning his elbows hard against the bar, El swore under his breath. Olivia had asked him if everything was okay - even though she'd known it wasn't. He had told her about Finley having killed Marga, and she had immediately offered to head back to the precinct to book him and start the paperwork. She had told Elliot to go home, presumably to lick his wounds, but instead he'd ended up at this dive cop bar. His mental wounds needed more urgent tending to than his body, and he wanted to put some distance between himself and Liv in that blue dress.

Relishing the burn of the scotch down his throat, El tried to get a handle on the dust storm of thoughts in his head. How in the fuck was he supposed to go home, expecting to ever explain to his son that he had unknowingly been named after a murderer? Dickie had already expressed his disbelief over how Elliot could have given up on entering the space program because of family obligation. He knew Dickie admired the Colonel in many of the ways he always had himself, and while Dickie still had plenty of years to change his mind, El knew that right now, an astronaut was what his son thought he wanted to be.

But Elliot knew there was so much more to all this than just that. It had started before the conversation with Dickie earlier that day. Maybe it had even started before he'd introduced Olivia to Colonel Finley - but whatever the catalyst, El knew it was long from over.

Before becoming a cop, an astronaut and a marine weren't the only things he'd wanted to become. As his estranged mother had so desperately reminded him recently, during the escapade with Kathleen, once upon a time he had been interested in architecture, too. He could try and blame it on age, he supposed, but in truth, there were so many things that he had worked hard to forget.

Elliot had told his mother, when pressed, that all his passion had gone into responsibility. More accurate fucking words had never been uttered, to describe how he found himself married 24 years (minus two) at his age. His marriage to Kathy had been many things since they were teenagers: necessary, young, a struggle, busy, chaotic, routine, comfortable, familiar, and since they had moved back in together - predictable. But passionate?

Not since another lifetime ago.

When Elliot searched his memory for the image of himself as a passionate man, he found it somewhere around the time he'd enlisted. And, of course, he found it in his time at SVU. Nobody would argue that bagging human garbage wasn't his calling.

And yeah, when people asked (especially Huang, or another head shrinker on the job), he told them he'd always wanted to be a cop. But there wasn't a shrink alive that would pull the full truth out of him.

"Another scotch on the rocks?" the bartender asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Elliot looked down, startled to see he had drained the glass. "Yeah," he grunted, pushing the empty highball back across the bar.

He had wanted to be a cop, but only his mother knew, and possibly Liv suspected, that it had more to do with trying to heal his father's fracted legacy than it did with any kind of destiny. Joseph Stabler had been a hard man. Elliot had loved hm. Looked up to him.

Feared him.

Not in the way that he had feared his mother - her unpredictability, her wild ideas and need to chase the things that only she could see. His fear of his father had been much more palpable. At least his father hitting him had been consisten - and, Joe had never left. That was probably the only quality Elliot had consciously taken from his father, the dogged determination to stay no matter what, for your kids.

He could hear Liv now, in his head, telling him that his interpretation of that one was a bit off the mark.

Dick Finley had filled the fatherly spaces that Elliot had always longer for. He'd made sure that El's rebelliousness never crossed the important lines, while still encouraging him to chase his dreams. Dick had pushed Elliot towards the space program because he saw a passion that was already bleeding out into family life, and still believed he could save it.

Shifting on the bar stool, Elliot groaned lowly as the full force of his injuries from the fight settled over him. Fuck, he hurt. More cuts and bruises that he really wanted to take stock of right now. He finished his current scotch and let his gaze roam disinterestedly about the bar.

His hero, he'd told Liv. A man who'd been to space . . . and who'd killed a brilliant woman in some twisted version of a midlife crisis. Thrown her body away like a piece of trash. And then shook Dickie's hand like it was nothing.

And, let's not forget, had been in the process of trying to bed Olivia.

"Jesus," El muttered, looking back down at the bar.

He knew Liv's taste in men tended to be all over the map, but he also knew that she'd had a thing for much older men since she was a teen. Finley had alway been a womanizer, but El never imagined he'd make a real pass at Liv, of all people. How could he assume that of a man he looked at like a father? As much as he'd admired Dick, something uncomfortable had bloomed in Elliot when he'd seen the Colonel leering at Liv.

 _Dick, I'm married_ , had been his sanitized response to his friend's insinuation. It was an answer that said something - but really nothing. He could've said, _I love my wife_ , or _My family comes first_ , or even the most glaring lie, _Not my type_. But that would've been too close . . . and yet so far.

Upon introducing Olivia to Finley, El had responded so casually to her question about never mentioning knowing the astronaut. Not that she had a reason to be surprised, having recently found out El's mother was alive, after El not breathing a word about her in their ten years together. _Like I need the competition_ , he'd said, after giving Dick a celebrity's red carpet introduction.

Competition? Was that really how he thought of other men who were attracted to Liv? El thought back to a few months ago, when he'd found out she'd been seeing Kurt Moss over at The Ledger. His reaction to the news wasn't entirely . . . typical of a platonic co-worker. The feeling that had gone through him was so unfamiliar, overwhelming. He'd known, right away, that he needed to see the guy - if for nothing else, then to smoke the guy getting Liv into a jam.

"Olivia has a picture of you two in the living room," was what Moss had said, as if that wasn't a fucked up introduction between two grown men wo knew the same gorgeous woman. Elliot had wondered if the man was accusing him somehow.

Not that Elliot hadn't been toeing that same accusatory line, staring Moss down while deflecting his comment about Liv's not telling him about their dating. And when she'd broken up with the guy, not even a week later - was that relief that El had felt? Or egotistical victory? It damn sure hadn't been sympathy of any platonic flavor.

Elliot took a deep breath and sighed heavily, remembering why Dick thought he'd shown up at his hotel room. Apologizing for asking Liv to dinner was really just adding insult to injury after he'd rushed the fingerprint through the lab. El's stomach had dropped out so hard when he'd confirmed his hero as a killer, that it was like the world had shifted on its axis.

Just like always, he'd gone off half-cocked in a rage. And just like always, he had ended up with the lumps to show for it. Had he chided Dick for assuming Elliot was miffed about the date with Liv? Had he attempted to laugh the idea off of the older man needing El's permission? Not at all. _Dinner with Olivia is off_ \- that was what he had said, before he began the process of beating the shit out of his one-time mentor.

When the full force of the day had finally started to hit him, there Live had been in that blue dress that fell too snug across her pelvis for Elliot to take, and those earrings, sparkling in the moonlight.

 _Lunacy_. Indeed.

"This seat taken?"

Elliot realized just how hard the scotch was finally hitting him as he heard Olivia Benson's voice at his right shoulder.


	2. II

**A/N: Here's the second chapter! I still really only have a loose idea of where I'm going. Any thoughts or comments you might have on this chapter would be more than welcome, as I tend to find myself better at exposition than dialogue. Reviews always welcome! E/O all the way - i will go down with this ship! Lol**

 **Rating: M**

 **Spoilers: Major spoilers for Paternity, Closet, Undercover, Swing, Lunacy**

 **Disclaimer: Characters belong to Dick Wolf, not myself. No copyright infringement intended, and no money is being made.**

"No," he replied in reference to the stool beside him, "but I should warn you, I'm prone to fits of violence."

Olivia smirked as she slid onto the seat. "Well, I've got a work partner with the same habit, so I guess I'll take my chances."

El nudged his credit card toward her on the bar. "Pick your poison."

"I'll just have a soda water," she told the bartender, who had approached them as she sat.

"Afraid I'll drink you under the table?" El raised an eyebrow.

"Someone's gotta make sure you get home in one piece - looks like it's gonna be me, tonight," Liv explained.

El shook his head and chuckled. "Guess you're used to that chore after all these years, huh?"

She sipped her soda water and didn't take his bait. And, she was still wearing that damn dress. El could smell some heady, deliciously edible fragrance on her, too. He kept his eyes on the bar, turning his scotch in his hand methodically.

"Finley won't be arraigned until morning," she told him. "His lawyer was . . . less than pleased about the Colonel having to spend a night in the tombs." After another long moment with no reaction from Elliot, she said, "El, I'm sorry."

"Nah," he shrugged, "don't be. We had all but forgotten about the necklace. You had no reason to suspect Dick was a killer."

"No, I meant . . . I'm sorry for agreeing to dinner with him."

As dangerous as it was with the scotch he'd had, El had to look at her then. "Why? Your personal life is your business, Liv. Even if I do happen to know the guy."

They both knew that wasn't as true as he wanted it to sound, but it was a lie that they had been leaning on since he had used it on Kurt Moss.

"This was different, El. When Finley asked me to meet him, I told him I'd ask you to join. But he wasn't into it."

"Shocking," El said wryly, "the moon and women were the two things he always wanted to himself." He knocked back the scotch and signalled the bartender for another.

"I knew you . . . admired him," Liv cleared her throat, "and I should've known better. How many of those have you had?"

"You think that's why I'm here? Because you were flattered by Dick's attention?" El caught her dark eyes. "We both know I woulda kicked his ass, even if he'd never asked you to dinner."

"Because of Dickie."

"Tell me, Liv, how I'm s'posed ta go home and tell my kid I named him after a murderer."

"You tell him the truth," Liv said firmly, that before this case, Finley never killed anyone. That when you named Dickie, you couldn't have known this would happen."

She gave Elliot the benefit of ignoring her logic, long enough to take inventory of his facial injuries. Frowning, she called over the bartender and asked for a glass filled with ice. When she had it, she wrapped several pieces in one of the napkins on the bar. "El, look at me," she demanded.

Gently, she pressed the makeshift ice pack to his swollen cheek. "You're hurt," she said softly.

 _Christ_. The things he felt when she touched his face like this. There was never enough penance he could do. She was dabbing the cut softly, glancing over him, looking for other injuries. "How come you never told me about Kurt Moss?" he asked as he watched her.

She startled, looking as if she was going to take his drink away. "Kurt?" she echoed. "I told you . . . "

"You told me you hadn't been ready. That could mean anything."

Olivia sighed, but didn't turn from him. His cheek was going numb, but he didn't want her to drop her hand yet.

"I didn't tell you because I knew it wasn't going anywhere," she said finally. "I didn't see the point, one I knew it wasn't going to work."

Turning back to the bar, Liv put down the napkin and returned to her soda water. El took his time before doing the same, searching her face.

"He knew about _me_ ," Elliot said next. He knew too well that he was pushing his luck. This was territory that the two of them had worked a decade to perfect the right amount of avoidance for. It had been a requirement in order for them to draw recognizable lines they could point out to others. Like his wife. Like their squad.

Liv chuckled uneasily. "You've obviously never been on the woman's end of trying to date, Elliot. Men wanna know what I do . . . who I work with. And if they see pictures of me with other men in them, they want to know who that guy is. You, of all people, should know a thing or two about the male compulsion to engage in pissing contests."

"You're not a fire hydrant," El said, his voice gruff. Liv could only snort and roll her eyes.

After passing a few moments to get distance from the topic, Olivia said, "I'm really sorry about Colonel Finley, Elliot. I know he meant a lot to you."

"Thanks." His tone was genuine, but didn't allow for anything further. Not yet.

"So're you planning on ever going home? Kathy must be wondering."

 _Kathy's been wondering for years_ , his headvoice came back with, all too quickly. He glanced sidelong at Olivia, a glance that took in her cleavage in the dress he now had a love-hate relationship with. "Don't I always, eventually?"

"Take it from someone who knows all too well - drowning your sorrows doesn't do much for the long term." She took a large gulp of soda water and muttered, "Or the nightmares."

Something in her voice cut through the scotch and self-pity he was wallowing in. He didn't want to be there any longer, in the shadows of some dive. He wanted fresh air - and Liv's dress deserved to be seen by more than just their squad.

"C'mon, Liv. Let's get outta here." He signalled the bartender and gave him the credit card.

"We bar hoppin' now, Stabler?" she smirked.

El stood up and slid his jacket on with great difficulty. "You said you were gonna make sure I make it home, right? Well, I'm gonna need fresh air, at lest, before Kathy'll even let me in."

Liv didn't disagree, and followed him outside. The moon was still full, and the light still managed to catch her eyes and her earrings. Elliot insisted on sneaking glances he hoped she wasn't catching. He was tipsy, but not drunk. The warm air from earlier was cooling off, and Liv knew she wouldn't get far without a chill.

They walked a couple blocks in silence, processing the hard day, each in their own way. Comfortable silence was something they only had with each other, and was a gift they never took for granted.

"How's Eli?" Liv finally asked, hoping conversation would somehow keep her warm.

Ever since the car crash and Eli's emergency birth, El had noticed Liv had a connection with his youngest that was altogether different from the rest of his kids. He couldn't blame her - she had been the first to see him born, and made sure he came safely into the world. It was a debt Elliot had yet to imagine how to repay.

"Teething. He fusses a lot at night because of it. Chews anything he gets his hands on. Maureen comes by to give Kathy a hand when she can."

"Poor guy," Liv pouted. El tripped then, over what appeared to be his own feet, and her arm shot out, catching him in the armpit. "Hey. You a lightweight tonight, Stabler? Did you get looked at after your round with Finley?"

" 'Course not," he told her, as if it was ridiculous of her to even ask.

"What if you have a concussion?"

"I don't," he told her stubbornly, refusing to admit it was more likely he'd had one scotch too many.

Olivia let her arm linger in Elliot's, eyeing him, trying to decide if she needed to harangue him into a trip to the ER. He saw the goosebumps that had broken out down her arms, and sighed. He struggled out of his jacket and pulled it around her shoulders.

"Here. S'cold," he mumbled. He didn't meet her gaze, even though he could feel her looking. "Why . . . wasn't it going anywhere, with Kurt?"

She still hadn't told him what had happened at Sealview. It had been months. And other than when he had first asked, the following day in the squadroom, he had dropped it. Part of him knew it was because he didn't want to know - couldn't face knowing what he hadn't been there to protect her from. But the rest of him knew he didn't pursue it because asking made Liv angry - liable to shut down on him, and that was more than he wanted to risk.

Nevertheless, if he was a braver man, his question would have been, _Did you push Moss away because of Lowell Harris?_

"It just . . . wasn't the right time, El. I hardly ever have time for a relationship with this job." It was an answer, but she kept her eyes on the sidewalk. "Let's get you home," she pushed, when she raised her head.

Olivia flagged him a cab and made sure he got in as painlessly as possible. He shook his head when she tried to give him back his jacket. "I can get it tomorrow. Or another day. You know what, Liv?" he asked through the taxi's open window as she shut the door.

"What, El?"

"That's a great dress."

She smiled then, wide and he could tell she was pleased. Immediately, he felt better.

"Thanks. NIght, El. Tell Eli I said hi."

Olivia watched until the taxi was lost to her in the sea of city traffic, flushed with pleasure from the compliment and Elliot's scent on the coat she was wearing. She knew that eventually, they would need to have a conversation about Harris. But the day that El had lost his childhood hero did not need to be that day.


	3. III

**A/N: I've always loved the Season 10 episode "Lunacy". Personally, I find that after the birth of Eli, Elliot and Olivia's relationship in late Season 9 and through Season 10 was noticeably more possessive. Elliot saying, "Like I need the competition," in Lunacy has tickled me since the first day I ever saw the episode. So I thought, for my second SVU outing, I'd try a post-ep. Not sure yet how long it will be, or really what direction I'm aiming for. Sorry that this chapter took longer to finish; I'm still trying to feel out exactly what story is happening in my head. I do love reviews! Pairing is E/O, since that's all I'm interested in writing currently.**

 **Rating: M**

 **Spoilers: Major spoilers for Paternity, Lunacy, Retro**

 **Disclaimer: Characters belong to Dick Wolf, not myself. No copyright infringement intended, and no money is being made.**

 ***III***

As a man who worked all hours, Elliot had long been an expert at getting into his own home without being heard. He navigated past Eli's toys and up the stairs, stopping first at his youngest son's room. Eli was sleeping soundly, his cheeks flushed with the evidence of his teething. His hair, now that it was growing longer, was coming in blonde like his mother's, and curly. Elliot Stabler was a man of so many blondes. It had been his hope that Eli would be a brunette, like himself, but no such luck.

Elliot had often wondered about the day of the car crash. It was the only birth of all his five children that he had missed, and while everyone knew it couldn't have been helped, it ranked high on his long list of items he carried guilt over. He could have lost his whole life that day: mother of his children, his son. And Liv.

Even in the deepest recesses of his mind, where El hid all the things he was too cowardly to face, Olivia didn't have a category or title that captured what she was to him. She wouldn't have been in that car that day if it wasn't for him . . . but she also took care of Kathy and brought Eli into the world out of chaos.

He had not lingered with Kathy and his new son, before he had gone back to Liv in the hospital hallway. The neutrality that they were accustomed to maintaining in their work partnership had left Elliot hardly able to think about Liv in the crash. He had even tried to walk away, but lost that battle. _You're okay_ , he had whispered, more for himself than for Olivia. El had pulled her into his arms, and remembered how to breathe.

And then it had been back to business as usual.

Having a child that was under a year old while in his forties, however, was not what Elliot would describe as business as usual. He continued on to the master bedroom, where Kathy was snoring softly, as he reached for his belt and finally began to undress. Their kids had been all but grown when they found out about Kathy's last pregnancy, and while there was no lie in saying that El loved his wife, he had pictured the nest in his forties a little more empty. He loved Eli too, of course, but if his back was to the wall and someone asked him outright if he would have stayed divorced if the pregnancy had not happened . . . Elliot couldn't be sure of his answer.

He watched Kathy for a few more minutes, breathing evenly, and sighed. Their 22 years of marriage was full of sleepless nights for so many reasons - and his job was one of the biggest. Elliot had never figured out how to come home to a mother of five kids and share the burden of SVU in order to lighten the weight on his shoulders. As much as Kathy had tried to, wanted him to, he had never let her inside that particular space.

And maybe that was why he found himself going back down the stairs after midnight, alone, to lay on the couch in his t-shirt and boxers, instead of crawling into bed with Kathy. Then again, maybe not.

He opened his cell and texted Liv, without the slightest twinge of guilt or surprise. It was like blinking, it was compulsion.

 **U make it home ok?**

 **Yes. Thks. You?**

 **Always :)**

 **Haha.** Then, after a pause, another one: **You going to b ok?**

 **Sure.**

 **Go to sleep, El.**

 **Might b a while.**

 **Need me 2 call?**

He hesitated then, wanting to hear her voice, humbled that he had the option. But the house was too quiet. **Nah. C u in the morning.**

 **Bring the good donuts.**

 **Ha Night Liv.**

Elliot stretched out on his couch and listened for the tick of the clock as he waited for the day to slip off of him, leaving the possibility of sleep.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

Olivia looked up as Elliot dropped a paper bag full of donuts from their favorite shop onto her desk next to her arm. "Ah! Bless you," she said sleepily. She smiled in earnest when she then noticed the tray in his hands with two cups from Starbucks. "Even better!"

El chuckled and crossed to his own desk. "Not sure it's worth it, for the price, but squad coffee's gonna kill us, eventually."

Liv snorted in agreement as she tore off pieces of donut and chewed them happily. "You get any sleep?"

"Some." Today, it was the truth.

He rifled through paperwork without really paying attention and sipped coffee, wondering how long before he would get called to testify regarding Finley. Liv, he could tell, was paying attention to her paperwork, so he let his gaze linger over her. She was (unfortunately) back to work attire, but she was wearing purple, and he loved that.

Years of being in SVU together had become this: distilled into these morning moments, before the phone rang or the next victim hurried through the door. Moments that Elliot had spent mapping the curves and lines of Olivia's face. The dark of her eyes, her ticks and tendencies, even just the way she occupied her desk space, all of it had become a tacit and ethereal poetry Elliot knew too well but would never write.

He had decided during his long night on the couch that he wanted to ask Liv about Eli being born - about the crash. Everyone, of course, knew the basic story. But between the cases, the chaos, and then the fact of having a newborn in the house for the first time in nearly 20 years, Elliot had never discussed the details with either Kathy or his partner. He wasn't sure if it was just an aftershock of the Finley case, making him want to confirm details of Eli's birth in an effort to ward off future disaster, or if Dick's comments regarding Liv

( _I mean, if_ _ **you're**_ _not gonna make a move_ )

had gotten to him more than he thought. For the sake of what was left of his sanity, he was hoping it was the former, not the latter.

Liv licked powdered sugar from her lips, and tucked her hair behind her ears. She was taking a long swig of her coffee when El cleared his throat. "Hey, Liv . . . "

The phone rang. Liv held up a finger as she answered, and he sighed, knowing that what he had planned would have to wait. Before she even hung up, El was reaching for his jacket.

"What'd we catch?"

"Firefighters downtown had a cab driver hand over an abandoned baby this morning. That was the hospital - doc who attended the baby wants to talk to us."

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

It had been a long day. Between shuffling from the hospital to the fire station, to Warner and then Gideon Hutton's office, El and Olivia were beyond exhausted. Their heads were whirling with AIDs denier information and stats from Melinda. Cragen had sent them both home to try and get some sleep while the phones were lighting up with anonymous tips they hoped would get them closer to Hutton's files.

Elliot pulled the sedan up close to the sidewalk in front of Liv's building and parked. They had come the whole way in their own brand of silence, but as Liv heaved a sigh and took off her seat belt, Elliot cleared his throat and decided he would try again.

"Liv?"

"Yeah, El," she acknowledged, her hand in her jacket pocket, searching for her keys.

"I, uh, was thinkin' that maybe, when this case is over, you could . . . uh, spend some time with Eli. And me."

She hesitated for a moment, thinking of the tension that always thrummed through the room when she shared it with Elliot and Kathy at the same time. Scrubbing a hand down her tired face, she looked at him. "El . . . "

Striking preemptively, he held up a hand, stopped her. "Just me. Kathy wouldn't be there. I was thinking maybe a picnic or somethin'."

Olivia's mouth, which had still been open to speak, snapped shut then. She looked at El like he had developed a brain disease that affected his speech. She wasn't even sure she believed El knew what a picnic was. Every day, every hour for years had been the job. The consideration of them on a day off - one that hadn't been handed down as an order from Cragen - was enough to make Liv want to laugh, let alone on a day off doing something so immensely alien to the boundaries of their partnership.

"Elliot. Assuming you could even get a day off, why wouldn't Kathy go on a picnic with you?"

El swallowed, trying hard to not sound like he had truly lost it. "It's not that she wouldn't. I just . . . you were there when Eli was born, and you know my other kids pretty well . . . so I'd like you to see him. What's wrong with that?"

If she closed her eyes, she could have slept right there in the car. With a shake of her head, she relented - at least for the night. "Alright. We'll set it up. Let's just get some sleep and worry about bagging Hutton first. Okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah," he nodded. "Go get some sleep, Liv." As she finally got out and reached to shut the door, he smiled. "Hey. Liv."

She stopped short of rolling her eyes. "Yes?"

"Don't forget to blink your lights."


	4. IV

**A/N: If you have followed me this far, hopefully you will have the patience to follow me where the story takes me. I mostly like how this chapter finally turned out, although big chunks of it were rewritten several times. It seems to be coming to me in fits and starts, so I'm still not really sure how long it will turn out to be, or if there's some concrete ending yet. Let me know what you think - I do love reviews! For any of you who are bigger fans of dialogue than exposition, I apologize haha, bc this fic seems to be pretty sparse on the dialogue so far. Pairing is E/O, since that's all I'm interested in writing currently .**

 **Rating: M**

 **Spoilers: Major spoilers for Doubt, Fault, Paternity, Undercover, Babes**

 **Disclaimer: Characters belong to Dick Wolf, not myself. No copyright infringement intended, and no money is being made.**

 ***IV***

Of all the versions of the picnic that Elliot had played through his head - what he wanted to ask, how he would ask, and the multitude of possible results - none of them had gone the way their outing actually did, on a fine day in the Fall, right around Halloween.

They'd had to wait until long after the case involving Gideon Hutton had come to an end. After their most recent job, a pregnancy pact and murder among teenagers, Stabler had had enough. A day off, doing something that regular folks do, was long overdue. El was sure Liv thought he had forgotten all about even suggesting it, but something about the pregnancy pact case had rattled her, so convincing her was much easier the second time around.

"We can do this, right Bud?"

Little Eli blew a bubble in his drool, quietly watching his father. "I'll take that as a yes." He sounded convinced, but his palms were clammy like he was 16 again. It was a sure sign that Elliot would find himself in the confessional bright and early Sunday, making up metaphors to be absolved of what he had been avoiding for nearly a decade.

 _I'm your partner, for better or worse._

Worse had been so many things over the years. Was this the better, he wondered - stripping away the badges and the life they shared, as detectives who were forever losing a battle against perversion? Their office relationship had always been so easy, symbiotic. When it came to hunting predators, they were in sync in a way that others couldn't understand. But outside the job . . .

The boundaries they had as friends were calculated and checked over their ten years together. He was not convinced they even knew how to be just two people on a picnic, but he was eager to find out.

Eli was still too young for Elliot to bother planning anything like catch or frisbee, but he did have the presence of mind to toss in a couple of story books with the toys that would keep him occupied. The fact that Eli was being pleasant and agreeable was enough to have Elliot smiling and tapping the steering wheel when he'd arrived to pick Olivia up.

For her part, Liv had been impressed, in spite of herself. She had been expecting pre-packaged snacks and maybe a few simple sandwiches, some soda, perhaps. The only pre-packaged snack had been the Goldfish crackers that Eli gummed to an indistinguishable mush. El had made mouthwatering grilled cheese sandwiches, wrapped in foil to keep the cheese warm, cut fruit and a few wrapped fudge squares (undoubtedly made by Kathy, but Liv didn't push her luck). There was even a non-alcoholic wine made with white grapes that had resulted in her snorting and rolling her eyes.

The park was full of other families with kids and couples enjoying the last of the cool weather, but Elliot wasn't paying them much attention, or wondering if he had finally crossed the line into having an affair. He was too busy watching Liv and Eli together, enraptured by the connection they seemed to naturally have. Like father, like son, maybe.

Eli looked at Olivia like he knew her - _remembered_ her, from his coming into the world. He smiled at her, and babbled constantly. Elliot couldn't remember ever seeing Liv's eyes with such pleasure and contentment in them. She'd had Eli sitting in the space of her legs, crossed yoga-style under her, endlessly fascinated by his fingers wrapped around hers, by reading him stories, or simply babbling along with his attempt to form words.

How could his heart ache this way for another person's desires? El had known for years now that Olivia wanted a child, and he had watched the cases involving infants and children become increasingly harder on Liv as time marched on. Had she noticed, how Elliot talked less and less about his own kids since Kathy had been pregnant the last time? He prided himself on being one of few people who could make things right for Liv when the train derailed . . . but there was nothing tangible that he could give her in this, and his hands sometimes ached with the emptiness of it.

Eli had become interested in the leaves and branches above his head, on the tree they were picnicking under. He craned his neck and kept pointing, babbling to Liv in his own language, until she had finally straightened out on the blanket, laying under the tree with Eli on her stomach, face-up so they could point at the tree together. She named them all for him. _Leaf. Branch. Bud. Stem._ It took all Elliot had left in him to remind himself to keep breathing. When Eli had rolled over, of his own accord, and curled up on Liv's chest with his thumb in his mouth, even breathing became hard to remember.

They were asleep. The two of them - Eli rising and falling gently with the pace of Liv's breathing, thumb hooked casually in his mouth, and Liv's hand on Eli's back with her other arm sprawled casually across the blanket, among picnic remains. They looked like they had been napping together their entire lives, like this was something that happened every other Wednesday, rather than a sight that was pushing Elliot's pulse higher and higher, splintering his Catholic senses into a kaleidoscope of confusion.

His entire plan flew from his head, including all the versions of questions he had bounced around, trying to pick one to open a conversation about Eli's birth. All he could comprehend in that quiet moment was the life he could have had, if he hadn't gotten married, become a marine and a father all before he turned twenty-one. The immeasurable loss of it was too much all at once, and tears burned his eyes.

Elliot leaned forward, his plastic cup of white grape wine in one hand, reaching his other towards the sleeping duo. He was a fraction of a hair's breadth away from touching Olivia's forehead, when she spoke, nearly causing his wine to spill as he jumped out of his skin.

"He tried to force me . . . to perform oral sex," Liv said slowly, her voice just above a whisper.

Elliot swallowed, his heart pounding fast enough to hurt. "Harris," he said, simply because he knew he had to say something.

She kept her eyes closed. It was the only way she could talk about it. "He cuffed me. To a door, after he caught me. It was . . . right in - " she swallowed, her voice wavering, "in my face. If Fin had been even a minute longer, El. Less than that. He would have forced it down my throat." El heard her whimper almost imperceptibly and the helplessness that shot through him was enough to make him want to die. "I would be dead. Or raped. Or both."

He couldn't say anything for a moment that felt like hours. His blood was like startled birds in his veins, making him fear he would take sudden flight from the blanket. Elliot's hands opened and closed into fists, over and over as he worked to simmer his rage. "I'm so, so sorry, Liv." His whisper, when it did come, was tender, and gave away too much of the guilt in his voice.

A tear slipped from the corner of one of her closed eyes. "Not your fault."

"I should have been there!" Now his whisper was harsh, on the verge of gritted teeth and the tone he always took before he laid into a perp - the moment before Liv always intervened.

"If you'd been there," she told him, "Harris would be dead. And you'd be out of a job."

"You're goddamn right he would be." El's lip curled into a snarl that Liv couldn't see. "Screw the job. I woulda broke every one of his fingers, and then sliced off his - "

"El. Who'd put up with me, if you weren't here?"

He took a deep breath, focusing on the visual of Eli sleeping peacefully. "Are you . . . I mean," Elliot struggled, wanting to use any word but 'okay,' "did you see Huang? Or someone?" For all his rage, he still wasn't blind. He knew that Liv hadn't been okay, not since the moment he had asked and she refused to tell him.

Liv thought about her furtive moment with Melinda. _Did he rape you?_ "Not, really," she admitted, anticipating the sigh that El would heave.

"Liv. You gotta - "

" . . . but I will," Olivia lied. Elliot felt no right to demand more from her, then. He noticed her open her eyes. "He's a good sleeper." She glanced down at the child.

"Better than the two of us put together, I'd stake," El nodded.

Olivia smiled then, even though her eyes were still moist. He couldn't give her a child. Or peace. He could never take her away from the job, and in that moment, he felt so small. The job was in both of them, but he was the one who had a family to come home to - fractured though it was, he had a legacy built on his stringent identity as a Good Catholic Man and Father, working hard to fill in all the gaps left by Joe Stabler before him.

Before Olivia - a twilight zone that Elliot's mind had long ago forgotten how to revisit - the sheer notion of feeling anything for a woman who was not his wife was ludicrous. Elliot was a model father - if a somewhat absent husband - and had too much to make up for, in the shadow of his father's failures to allow the idea of infidelity to cross his mind. Even after he and Kathy had separated, briefly divorcing several years ago, it was an effort for him to date - to consider himself _single_ , something he had not been since he was eighteen.

Eventually, the years that passed with Olivia as his partner began piling up memories. It was a pile of moments, looks, laughter, subtle touches, and thoughts that took on a life of their own. Like a cartoon rabbit, trying to sweep something too large under too small of a rug, Elliot had tried to ignore it for as long as possible. Since Eli's birth, and the feel of Liv's body pressed against him in that hallway, he felt less like a cartoon rabbit and more like a furtive criminal. He had daydreams of being confronted, in front of a wall-sized calendar of the years, with he-didn't-know-who, pointing out his many crimes:

 _ **Here**_ _is where you brushed her arm on purpose._

 _ **Here**_ _is where you hesitated over her lips while waking her in the crib._

 _ **Here**_ _is where you chose her over the job . . . when you realized you couldn't live without her._

Except, this unknown figure never handed down the atonement he clung to in his torment. Which left him as some version of a man he never believed he could be - a man who loved the mother of his children and the life they had shared long years to build, and who was in love with another woman.

When the shadows of the afternoon grew long, Elliot had packed up the picnic things, letting Olivia hold Eli on her hip as he stirred slowly from his nap. Not a word was spoken about the car crash when his son was born - El knew it would hang on for another day. Olivia busied herself buckling the little boy into his car seat while Elliot put the bags and blanket in the trunk. He came up behind her, unable to escape the paranoia that she would somehow not buckle Eli correctly, and leaned to peer in at her work.

"Don't trust me, do you Stabler?" Liv said wryly. She turned where she stood, pulling her head from inside the car. Immediately, she wished that she had better calculated how close they would be to each other.

Elliot's breathing seemed too heavy in the small space between their chests. "Of course I do," he breathed. She smelled like cherry blossoms, he realized, as he struggled to dig his metaphorical fingertips into his volatile self-control.

She watched the blue of his eyes change, as he was assaulted by thoughts of her crying, screaming for help in Sealview, praying for Fin to hurry. His stomach rolled, painfully, at what she'd endured, and his failure to protect her.

"El," she whispered, raising a hand to his bicep, her fingers touching him lightly, hoping to ground him. But that was all that she got out, as Elliot leaned in and kissed her. Even the rustle of the trees in the fall breeze seemed to still, pausing for this salient moment to occur.

Her lips were so soft and welcoming that it took nearly all Elliot had left not to immediately groan into her mouth. Years of pent-up want for something - _any_ touch of her at all - came slamming to a halt in the nerve endings of their mouths, and Liv's hand on his bicep tightened, driving her fingertips into the muscle.

His imagination had lied to him, utterly. All the fantasies he had amassed in secret, all of them together, could never had prepared him. The ground disappeared, his heart galloped. He felt her everywhere, with his groin taking the lead.

Liv pulled away from him, uttering his name on a gasp. " - El!"

 _Dammit. God . . ._

"Sorry . . . " He added nothing to the apology, having never felt more exhausted from saying the word in the over four decades of his life.

At least she was standing still, and not running, he realized. Or hitting him - although, that was something he would at least be more familiar with. He watched her chest rising and collapsing with heavy breaths, his head bowed, waiting to be torn apart.

"Take me home, Elliot," she said finally, her voice firm. He watched her, step around him and get into the passenger side.

That calendar was back up in his head, a pointer hitting it with a resounding crack. _And_ _ **here**_ _is where you won the battle but lost the war. . . ._


	5. V

**A/N: I was very pleased that season 10 so conveniently ran from Lunacy, to Retro, then Babes and Wildlife in a believable timeline - it made this chapter come together rather seamlessly. Hopefully you guys still enjoy (Lord knows we all love Wildlife haha). I wanted to say thank you to everyone who had taken the time to review! The encouragement means so much more than you know. Until the next chapter! Pairing is E/O, since that's all I'm interested in writing currently. Reviews always welcome!**

 **Rating: M**

 **Spoilers: Major spoilers for Wildlife**

 **Disclaimer: Characters belong to Dick Wolf, not myself, except for the direct dialogue and situation that I have worked into this chapter from the Season 10 episode, Wildlife. No copyright infringement intended, and no money is being made.**

 ***V***

The day after Elliot had, for all intents and purposes, lost his mind, he was convinced he would come in to the office and find Liv's desk empty. He'd been awake the entire night after the picnic, avoiding Kathy at all costs and forcing himself not to text Olivia. For hours, tossing and turning on the couch, El had volleyed between torturing himself with thoughts of Liv's mouth under his, and then with imagining Kathy's wrath, a messy divorce, the flames of hell.

Around dawn, he had offered his God a deal: as long as Liv showed up at the 1-6 that morning, without requesting a new partner, Elliot would stay hands-off for at least another ten years. When he walked into the squad room later that same morning, he had been holding his breath without realizing it.

Of course she was there. Bigger than life, and more beautiful than he could have remembered.

He found a mug of coffee on her desk, just the way he liked it, but he couldn't bring himself to thank her for fear of breaking the spell of quiet neutrality. Instead, he settled for a loud, _Mmm_ of approval after several sips.

They worked in relative silence until about mid-morning, when they met Warner over a dead body. Elliot hadn't argued when Liv suggested splitting up, offering to take Fin with him to club Supple so Liv could canvass modelling agencies. The further El buried himself into Cop Mode, the easier it became for him to pretend nothing had happened.

And it worked, as the day grew long and the case grew strange and stranger. Until Kathy called, the following afternoon. Elliot had never begged off a phone call with his wife in all his married life. Talked to her without really listening? Undoubtedly. But never avoided her completely. Until that November, he had never really had a reason.

El had spent the day as someone other than himself. Not just a married man who had kissed another woman, but also as Mike the Customs Agent. "Tell her I'm in the field," he'd told Liv, not looking long enough to read her reaction.

Before he had time to consider his own subterfuge, Elliot found himself knee-deep into an undercover job that he had half-orchestrated on his own. It took days to get everything sorted - IDs, a crash pad in Queens, information from the airport, and of course, meeting Bushido.

El hadn't picked up a phone to call Kathy in more than a week. It was this thought that plagued him as he was sprawled on "Mike's" couch for a second sleepless night, waiting for Bushido to call the next move. What a monumental fuckup he'd made. He thought of Kathy at home, worried, lonely, after days of managing Eli by herself. He thought of Liv, wondering how she would ever be able to respect him again after he had obliterated the line they had spent ten long years drawing. If he intended on keeping his family, his job, and his partner then he knew he should march home to Kathy, apologize to Olivia, and go back to being the most devout, guilt-ridden Catholic that he knew how to be.

But.

There was a part of him that he was old enough to know he couldn't, and wouldn't be able to fool, ever again. It was the part that had grown patiently over 10 years, starved for attention - like the kind it had gotten when Liv's lips made contact with his own. And now that light had been shed on that most forbidden of all corners, Elliot knew it was a place that would never go dark again.

He could go back home to Kathy and never lay a hand on Liv ever again. But he already knew it would be a life filled with more of his usual longing looks, his possessiveness around any man who so much as breathed around Liv, and cold showers at the precinct with his own hand around his straining cock.

Jesus Christ, what had he gotten himself into?

A sudden hard knock at the door had him up like a shot and back to work mode. He glanced through the peep hole, expecting Bushido, or Tybor, or maybe both. What he saw made his gut fall six storeys with surprise, and then fear. In one swift movement, El had the door open and a hand wrapped around Liv's bicep, nearly lifting her right from the step into the apartment. She always seemed so light when he was scared for her life.

"Are you crazy?! They could have somebody watchin the place!" He managed to sound exasperated instead of happy to see her.

"Elliot, we lost contact - I had to come! Why aren't you answering the phone we gave you?"

"Because they took it along with my wallet; there was nothing I could do about it."

She was somehow even more exasperated than he was, as she tore her leather jacket off in relief and frustration, taking her cell out of its pocket. "Ok, so take mine and hide it somewhere, and that way I'll tell Cragen that you have it."

El crossed to the front window. "Tell Kathy, too," he told her, peeking through the curtain, still fearful that they were being watched.

"I just saw her."

"She mad?" There was no time to waste, wondering why Liv had been at the house. He could've been asking 'was she mad when you told her we kissed?' or 'was she mad I've been gone?', he didn't know.

"She's worse than mad, and I can't say that I blame her."

El let go of the curtain, his tone indignant that she somehow had the gall to sound annoyed and self-righteous. "Well Liv, what the hell am I supposed to do - tell the bad guys I gotta get home for diaper duty?"

They were toe-to-toe then in their mutual defiance. It wasn't the first time that Olivia had gone to the mat for the sake of his marriage, and she made sure he knew it. "Hey. You go undercover again and don't tell Kathy? You'll be safer here than home. _Call her_."

He knew it was an order, but before he could ask what Kathy had said, the door began to rattle on its hinges.

"Mike!" It was Bushido. "Come on, Mike, let us in!" He continued to turn the knob and assault the door.

Elliot's face drained of all color as fight or flight set in. Bushido had made it clear that Elliot could get himself killed as easily as by showering at the wrong time of day, and now with Liv there, he was certain they were both dead. "That's them, that's them," he said harshly, panicking. "Ok . . . back here, take this. Take this!" He pushed her cell phone back into one of her hands and shoved Liv backwards, toward the room that was the farthest away from the front door. He swallowed hard and opened the the door to the smugglers, forcing out a casual, "Hey."

"Who were you just talking to?!" Bushido spat.

"What?" El said, feigning stupidity.

"Who were you talking to!" Bushido's eyes were aflame with his trademark rage.

"Nobody." El struggled to be the cool to the man's constant fire.

Tybor spoke from behind him then, holding up Olivia's forgotten jacket. "You wearin ladies' panties, too?" he smirked.

Elliot was racing to find a response, shaking his head lightly, when the three men heard the toilet flush from the far end of the apartment - in the room that he'd sent Liv toward. There was no time then, to pray, or to wonder why in the blue fuck she was drawing attention to herself, as El was man-handled down the hallway.

The last cogent thought that filled his mind as he went stumbling across the bedroom, nearly falling, was a promise to himself that he would trade his life for Olivia's at any cost before he'd let the two criminals touch or harm her.

"Mmm . . . are you ready for me, Daddy?" Liv emerged from the bathroom in her pants and bra, walking toward Elliot with long strides. "Oh . . . didn't know we were havin a party," she purred, glancing at Bushido and Tybor. She reached El, pushing hard up against him and throwing her arms around his neck. "That's gonna be a hundred to watch, 250 to join. Each."

All the color, and then some was back in El's face. He could feel Liv's heart pounding against his bare chest, and his cock twitch in his boxers as he chuckled awkwardly. "Guy's gotta eat, huh?" His mouth had moved, but he wasn't sure to say just what, as the lace of Liv's bra scraped his pecs, as her breath tickled his ear.

"You got good taste, I'll give you that," Tybor leered, looking Olivia up and down.

He was painfully aware he couldn't protect Liv like this; he was overwhelmed with images of breaking Tybor's face with the bedroom window if either man took her up on her "offer".

"Get her out of here," Bushido barked.

"Why so tense?" Liv cooed at El's concerned face. She was gripping his right hand hard, behind his hip where the other two men couldn't see.

"Um . . . not tonight," he tolder her, pooling her cardigan into her free hand, trying his best to sound disappointed rather than relieved.

"Well guess what? You still gotta pay!" she chirped, determined to nail the part she was playing.

Tybor grabbed her roughly by the hand then, causing Elliot to stiffen with distrust. He held her hand until the last possible moment when it pulled from his, then quickly followed behind when Tybor began shoving Liv back up the hall.

"Come on, get goin!" he ordered.

"Well, can I at least get dressed?"

El watched her grab the jacket that was shoved at her, still poised to jump in to ensure she got out unharmed. Tybor pushed her out the front door, still shirtless, as Bushido's phone rang, and Elliot finally let some of his muscles un-clench. They were both still alive, and that was a start.

After the shortest of exchanges, Bushido ordered El to get dressed. He sent Tybor ahead of them, while Elliot soon found himself in an unmarked SUV with just the Russian-Italian man, praying that Liv had gotten herself far enough away - too far for Tybor to follow and take her up on the sex, after all. El was working fast to repair the damage done to the UC operation, trying to laugh off the encounter with Liv as a forgivable slip up. But Bushido was dangerous, as well as a prick, and El couldn't tell if things were salvageable, or if he should pull out as soon as he got the chance.

At least the man was talking about a next time, as he pulled to a stop in front of what looked like a warehouse. "Why're we stoppin?" El asked him.

"Go inside and grab the cage," Bushido told him, his voice calm again.

"What, here?"

"Yeah." El hesitated, knowing they were in the middle of nowhere. "Hey. Knock twice on the door," Bushido pushed. Left without much of a choice, Elliot got out of the vehicle. "Oh, and Mike?"

"Yeah," El muttered, turning back to face him.

"Take this with you."

Stabler was vaguely aware that Bushido had shot him, as his body hit the pavement. He heard the SUV squeal away from the curb, he saw the velvet expanse of night sky above him, and he wondered who would take care of Kathy and Olivia now. As his breathing began to hitch and the pain intensified, he heard people clammering, and a siren. Someone was talking about a blanket.

Then, like God was allowing him a last dream rather than a last confession, Liv was there. Her shirt was back on, but he supposed a dying man could only expect so much. Despite the concern on her face, she was magnificent - her hair, her eyes, mouth, skin, all of it magnified well beyond memory.

"Elliot! Elliot . . . " she was breathless as she said his name, and he thanked God he could die having heard her say it that way. "Can you hear me?" Her hand stroked his face. "Can you hear me?"

Yes, he could hear her, and feel her touching his face - but for some reason, he couldn't get his mouth to work to say so. His chest was going numb by then, and his only regret, as El let his eyes slip closed, was that his lips wouldn't cooperate to mirror the words in his mind:

 _I love you, Liv. I love you._


	6. VI

**A/N: Hi again! Here is chapter six, sorry for the delay. Reviews are always appreciated. E/O of course. Thanks to everyone who is reviewing and following!**

 **Rating: M**

 **Spoilers: Major spoilers for Wildlife, PTSD**

 **Disclaimer: Characters belong to Dick Wolf, not myself. No copyright infringement intended, and no money is being made.**

 ***VI***

Like that fabled needle in the groove, Elliot and Olivia went back to relative normalcy after the Bushido case. Tybor got his chance to get close to the prison smuggler ring, Bushido was put away, and the kiss that passed between the two partners was not mentioned again. El healed from his gunshot wounds at record pace, and made a concerted effort to be at home more for a while.

His hope was that some time away from the job - and Liv - would help tamp down the flames that had been fanned since the picnic. If only he could have known how wrong he was.

After the Linnie Malcolm case had been settled, Liv and Fin got involved in a murder case involving the Marines. Elliot held back, keeping himself busy with paperwork. He and Liv were finally getting some distance, and he felt that they were getting back to their previous sync. He craved that balance, and refused to do anything to jeopardize it.

Then one night, after Liv had been on the pregnant Marine case for about a week, Elliot got a call from Fin. Fin asked El to meet him, saying he needed to talk. It was out of character for the man, Fin and Elliot had never been close the way the rest of the squad generally was. But he had been working with Liv, so El couldn't risk saying no.

Once he made sure Kathy was asleep, with Eli curled up next to her in the bed, he waited for a text from Fin, telling him where the meet-up would be. El hovered in front of his living room window, trying hard to forget how glaringly obvious the tension had been in his marriage since he came home. Something was missing. They both knew it. For years it had been comfortable. Lukewarm. He would never deny he loved and cared for Kathy, but after 22 years of marriage and five kids, Elliot missed the life he could have had. He missed every path he that he'd never wandered down, and that passionate man his mother remembered from that day on the beach.

Stabler was a man amidst a mid-life crisis that he swore to himself would never be his. He was no longer sure when the hold would break, and the shitty job he'd been doing of trying to keep it together while ignoring his desires would collapse in on him. El heaved a sigh, glanced at his phone, finding the text, and headed out to gun the engine, to meet Fin in the cover of darkness like a guilty man.

Odafin Tutuola wasted no time or words when Elliot dropped heavily into the passenger seat of the sedan. "You talk to Liv lately?" he asked as El shut the door.

"Sure. We text. I've been in and out of the office on paperwork, while you two have been on this Marine thing."

"Naw, I mean like really talk," Fin pressed.

Elliot took a deep breath and half-rolled his eyes. "Fin. Did something happen? Just give it to me. It's too late to play guessing games."

"She's in a bad way, El." It was Fin's turn to sigh. He had promised he wouldn't tell anyone she was in counselling, and he wouldn't. But he knew that Elliot and Liv held each other up in ways that no one else did. "Just talk to her. She's not herself, and I think it's about Sealview." It was as much as he could say without spelling it out for him.

Elliot's entire midsection turned to ice at the mention of the prison as he caught his breath. "Something new happen with Harris?"

"Naw, naw, not like that," Fin shook his head. "She just needs someone to talk to, and you're her partner. Best it be you's all."

El took one last, long moment to absorb, and then nodded. "Alright. Thanks for the heads up, Fin."

"Don't mention it. Now outta my car, Stabler - I gotta day off and I wanna take it before someone tries to take it back."

El snorted and got out, heading back to his own car. He looked at the LED clock on the dash as he keyed the engine on. It was past eleven, and he knew Liv hardly ever slept, likes himself. He was a man of the head moreso than the heart - except when it came to Olivia.

Which is why he found himself headed into her building a short while later, without so much as a text to see if she was home. When the door opened, El was immediately struck by how tired she was - and for once, he knew it wasn't just because of him and the job. In one hand, she held her baggy sweater closed, in the other she held the door to 4D.

"El? What are you doing here?"

"Did I wake you?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"No," she sighed, "unfortunately. Everything okay?"

"I thought that was my line," El smiled. "You gonna let me in?"

"Uh . . . yeah," she conceded, and turned around, leaving the door open for him.

"How's this thing goin with the Marines?"

"It's almost over - thank God. You know what they're like."

He watched her from the end of the kitchen island, she curled up on the couch and pulled her legs under her. "Should I be offended?" he smirked.

"Well, you must've left for a reason, right?"

"Sure I did - it was fatherhood." El crossed then and sat on the other end of the couch. There was a mug of what he knew was probably tea, growing cool on the coffee table. "After this case is done, maybe you should take some time off."

Her head lolled back a bit, drowsy but unable to give in to sleep. "Why's that?" she slurred, "You sick of me again, Stabler?"

"For the record, I was never 'sick of you.' Why haven't you been sleepin, Liv?"

Liv forced her eyes open, her head up. "Th'fuck am I supposed to know?" Her brow furrowed. "Dead women in car trunks? Maybe the uselessness of the goddamn Marines?"

El said nothing, but he met her gaze and wouldn't let her break it. Until she spoke again, in a whisper: "Nightmares."

"Liv. Did you see anyone yet? You promised."

She closed her eyes. "I'm going to therapy, Elliot."

"With Huang?"

"Does it matter?" she asked, irritated.

"Is it helping?" The question seemed almost sarcastic, but he held his ground.

She met his eyes again, and he could see - really see - she was exhausted. He saw dark circles, her hair untended, how she hadn't been eating. Fuck. Where had he been? Why hadn't he been paying attention?

"Does it ever?" she answered sourly. She stopped short of asking him again why he had come, because suddenly she felt like she could really sleep if she tried.

"You have anything here to eat, Liv?"

She laughed out loud then. "You come all the way from Queens to make me a sandwich, El?"

"I didn't hear any complaints about my grilled cheeses," he shrugged, and at the mention of the picnic, she looked away again.

"Not hungry."

 _Christ_ , he thought, _like a petulant child_. He stood up. "Well, you might not be hungry, but you damn sure need some sleep. C'mon, Benson. Up." He held out his hand to her.

She put her hand in his. "You gonna take me to bed?"

His stomach betrayed him with a somersault then, curious if the change in her eyes and tone had been on purpose. "I'll stay, if you think it'll help you sleep."

They both took her silence then as a yes, and he led her into her bedroom. As she settled onto the bed and pulled into a fetal position, Elliot drew up a heavy wool blanket from the foot of her bed, covering her. With no intention of asking to join her on the bed, he turned to the small, decorative chair full of cushions behind him and pulled it up next to the bed.

Smiling, he tipped his head. "Bedtime, detective."

Liv looked at him, her expression unreadable. "I . . . see him, El. In my nightmares. I . . . he . . . and I can't stop him." Her voice cracked as her eyes welled with tears. "I fucked up. Pulled my gun, almost shot a man without sufficient cause."

El willed his heart not to break. He picked up her hand again, squeezed it. "I won't go anywhere. I gotcha now." He watched her eyes close, trusting him.

For hours, his hand never wavered.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

Elliot awoke to the parent-familiar sound of thrashing, as well as the screaming of his neck muscles from falling asleep askew in the short chair. The clock on the bedside table told him it was shortly before four AM. Olivia had rolled onto her back during her sleep, and was fighting off her own blanket.

He leaned forward. "Liv." When she didn't acknowledge him, he stood and stepped closer, placing a hand on the bed. But his weight on the mattress while she was still in the throes of her nightmare had the opposite anticipated effect. Liv yanked one hand from under the blanket, balled in a fist, and it soared straight for El's face.

El's ever-present cop reflexes caught her wrist mid-air with an audible slap of skin meeting skin. "Okay. Okay," he said softly. "Liv." This time, her eyes snapped open. "There. Hey. See? You're safe."

She took a deep breath as he released her wrist. "Elliot . . . " she breathed, making his stomach flip-flop again, " . . . sorry. What time is it?"

"Not time to get up yet," he smiled. "You okay now?"

"Better. Not sure I'll be able to get back to sleep, though."

A pause, and then El nodded, knowing arguing would get him nowhere. "Alright. You wanna get some breakfast, then?" He could tell by the change in her expression that she was finally realizing that she was hungry. "C'mon."

He took them to one of their favorite all-night diners and they each ordered a huge breakfast, with bottomless cups of coffee.

"You feel like talkin?" He watched her squeeze ketchup onto her hashbrowns.

She popped a hashbrown in her mouth. "Does Kathy know where you are, or is she gonna be pissed at me again?"

"Again?" El raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. During the Bushido case. She knew I lied for you. Kathy's not stupid, El."

"I . . . I know she's not. Listen. I'm sorry I asked you to lie, Liv. You deserve better than that - "

" - so does Kathy," she interjected flatly.

"Yes. You're right. My marriage is mine to deal with. It won't happen again." He took a bite of his bacon. "How long you been havin nightmares?"

"A while."

El mustered the patience he normally reserved for talking to toddlers. "Liv, you're not yourself."

"Oh no? Who am I, then?" she was glib, meeting his eyes as she sipped coffee.

He bit his tongue before it could form the words, A victim. "I'm just saying," he reached and stole an orange slice from her plate, "there's no harm in taking some time off. Or in needing to talk."

"El. You and I are good partners because we're alike in certain ways. Neither of us like having our heads shrunk, and when we're . . . not okay, we put our back up against the job."

"And how many times have you, or Cragen, had'ta remind me over the years that sometimes that's not enough?"

Liv sighed. "What do you want from me, El? I'm getting the therapy. You showed up, I let you in. What is it that you want me to do?" She shot him an acidic look. "Go home to my family?"

El looked down at his breakfast, unsure what to say. When he looked back up and met her gaze, he was shaken by what he saw. He knew she had PTSD - he was no fool. But it was more than that. He saw loneliness, and the weight of everything she held in. There was a frantic energy he could feel, thrumming below the surface, generated by the effort it was taking for her to keep from spinning out of her own control.

In their ten years, the majority of the communication between them had been unspoken. El knew why this was so hard, but strenuously wished they had more experience with each other this way.

"I just want you to consider taking some time off. That's all. Sleep. Eat. Call me if you have the nightmares. Just take the job out of the equation for a while." El passed her a piece of his bacon like he was offering an olive branch.

"Let me be your family," he said softly as she took it.

Olivia neither accepted nor declined, but took a last gulp of coffee and pushed away from the table. "Thanks for breakfast, El. I gotta get to work."

Elliot caught her by the hand as she passed. "Just tell me you'll think about it, Liv."

"I'll think about it," she told him.

He didn't turn as she exited - he scraped her leftover hashbrowns onto his plate, and chewed thoughtfully.


	7. VII

**A/N: Ok, so, I'm Canadian. I know pretty much squat about the US. So when you read this chapter, please keep in mind that everything I am referencing related to Manhattan/New Jersey I learned from Google/Google Maps/Wikipedia. This includes things like driving distances, climate, and places to visit. I'll write more on this in my end note. I'm really proud of this chapter though, so I really do hope you guys enjoy it. Thank you all so much for the follows and the reviews. Reviews always welcome! Pairing is E/O, since that's all I'm interested in writing currently.**

 **Rating: M**

 **Spoilers: Major spoilers for PTSD, Philadelphia, Perverted**

 **Disclaimer: Characters belong to Dick Wolf, not myself. No copyright infringement intended, and no money is being made.**

 ***VII***

 _"I want you to take some personal time off,"_ Cragen had told her. An unofficial order. It looked as though Elliot was getting his wish after all.

Olivia poured herself a glass of red wine. Her head was a haunted house full of the past. _I've been alone my whole life_ she heard herself say to Elliot, from a couple years ago. But it wasn't entirely true.

She had spent her childhood taking care of her mother amidst being rejected by the woman when Liv fought for a relationship. After the Academy, it became her career to take care of literally everyone. She wasn't deaf to the whispers in the hall, or the humour of the press. She was Mother Benson - Patron Saint of Victims. It was who she had learned to be before anything else. Even when not alone, she had never learned to take care of herself.

Olivia had dismissed scraped knees and ignored the existence of sad, of lonely, of ache. Even love, when it came along, had somehow become an escape from her childhood. She turned away from it anytime it came too close to caring for her, opting instead to seek a new someone to care for. In doing so, she had become an expert at leaving herself alone.

Now Elliot was the one skirting dangerously close to the 'taking care of' line, and Liv could feel all of her safety measures engaging. She wanted to shut down, to withdraw - and the more she tried to, the more her body decided she needed him. When he had stayed the other night, she had slept for the first time in weeks rather than drifting off for a few minutes here and there.

And when he'd kissed her . . .

Olivia took a breath that shuddered her chest.

When he had kissed her, it made her wonder about love that wasn't a crossing point from one place to another. It had made her loosen her grip on the wants she tried to snuff in her fists like moths' wings. Those wants had started to flutter against her fingers.

The want to feel his tongue in her mouth during that kiss.

The frantic desire to push her hands against his defined abdomen.

The want to have his mouth . . . everywhere.

The fluttering wouldn't stop, as hard as she tried, and she didn't know how to feel safe now. Taking care of Elliot meant keeping his marriage intact, thereby removing herself as a distraction, no matter how hard the PTSD kept making that. But she knew she was losing the battle this time, and wasn't sure anymore which was harder - letting go, or fighting to hide.

For the third time since she had gotten home, she reached for her cell, wanting to call El and ask him to come so she could sleep. She hesitated again, making a noise of disgust at her own weakness.

 _Stop kicking yourself_ , Dominic had told her in the precinct hallway.

If only it was that easy.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

When she woke on the couch for the third time of the night, Olivia was ultimately done with her pride. She fumbled in the dim for her phone - nearly knocking over what was left of her wine.

"Stabler," he answered, his voice husky with sleep.

Liv opened her mouth, but shame stole her voice away.

"Hello?" he spoke again.

"I need to sleep," she managed, sounding small and frightened.

"I'll be right there," El told her, letting the line go dead without her having to talk again.

When she let him in, she looked at him without smiling, her blanket draped around her shoulders. "I'm sorry."

Ignoring her unnecessary apologies came naturally to Elliot after so much time together. Taking her by the shoulders, he turned her around and nudged her gently back toward the couch. After a few minutes rummaging around in her cabinets, El found a tea that would be suitable and went about boiling her kettle.

Liv watched him, testing how it felt to be cared for, just for a little while. Just watching him was soothing. The strong line of his jaw, how easily he slipped into Marine stance when he was thinking or waiting. His never-ending expanse of chest that she knew had rocked five children to sleep against what had probably been a hundred nightmares. No wonder her sleeplessness didn't scare him.

"Drink this," he said as he set the tea on the coffee table in front of her. He sat on the couch with her, on the opposite end. "Give me your feet."

Liv sputtered tea in the middle of the sip she had taken to humour him. "What?"

"Your feet," he insisted, holding out his hands as if to prove some point.

"El, I need sleep, not a foot rub."

"It's not a foot rub," he chuckled. "Well. Kind of. I know reflexology."

Liv raised an eyebrow. "The hell you do, Stabler."

He cleared his throat. "When Kathleen was little, she had terrible nightmares. We tried everything, nothing worked. When I finally reached the enda my rope, I read about reflexology. Taught myself." He shrugged. "After that, Kathleen slept like a baby. So gimme your feet, Benson. That's an order."

Still not sure what to think, she stretched out and allowed Elliot to touch her feet. Starting with her left, he worked his thumbs into the lower half of the pad of Liv's big toe.

"Keep drinkin your tea," he reminded her.

Olivia was amazed at how good the pressure felt on her toe. She was, after all, a woman who spend the majority of her days on her feet, even if she doubted its effect on her night terrors. Between sips of the herbal tea, she let her head loll back, grateful to be there with someone she could be silent with.

Soon enough, the tea was gone and Liv was fast asleep. Elliot got up and slid his arms under her, hardly breathing for fear of waking her. He carried her, blanket and all, into her bedroom and settled her onto the bed. He considered that, if he was a man of stronger willpower, he would try to help her into pyjamas and under the covers so she didn't have to sleep like a nomad. El was still standing over her when she rolled from her side to her back, her eyes fluttering open.

"Don't sleep in the chair," she mumbled, pulling the blanket up under her chin.

"You want me to sleep on the couch?" he whispered, wondering if he would hear her thrashing from that distance.

"Stay here," she said then, closing her eyes as she rolled to her opposite side.

El's pulse galloped as he comprehended. He knew her request was innocent, but he wasn't convinced she understood exactly what she did to him. But, he was also a man with three daughters who could never say no to the women in his life.

Fighting hard to slow his breathing, he crossed to the other side of the bed and sat on the edge, his back facing her. It was the same side of the bed he normally slept on at home.

With Kathy.

El sighed. He laid down then, not bothering to reach for the blanket. He rolled to face her, not trusting himself to lay in a spooning position. His stormy blue eyes sought the outline of her face in the dark, but he knew she was asleep again.

It would be some time before he slept as well.

As dawn crept over Manhattan, Elliot awoke with a start. He could smell the familiar, comforting scent of Olivia and he breathed deep. Neither of them had moved - they slept facing each other, Liv with her knees drawn up, and El ramrod straight with effort, trying not to touch too fully. At some point during the night, Liv had stretched her hand between them, and he could feel her palm, warm against the side of his neck. It was the simplest of touches - unconscious, seeking comfort, reassurance - but El felt his stomach free-fall as his belly clenched.

 _So this is it_ , he thought, _this is how affairs begin. How marriages end. Even tolerable ones_.

It was an eerily calm thought. Just a moment in time, not a conscious decision. More of an observation he could turn over in his hands like beach glass. Anyone could tell him that it had truthfully started ten years ago, when he had met Olivia and started feeling something again, after years of just the job and his lukewarm marriage. But now, while he could hear her gentle breathing as dawn came teasing through the window, the when of things seemed irrelevant.

She hadn't had a nightmare or woken all night. Elliot felt grateful. As he was drifting back to sleep, he felt Liv's hand move from his neck, down his chest to settle between his pecs. Her hand pressed there, tightly, as if seeking entrance.

He slept then, and had dreams of his heart spilling into her hand with relief and acquiescence.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

"El . . . what are you doing?"

He looked up from the kitchen counter and smiled at her. She was still sleepy, her hair mussed, wearing a tight white t-shirt and a pair of shorts. She must have changed, assuming he had left.

"Making pancakes," he answered lightly, as if he was in her kitchen every morning making breakfast.

"But . . . I don't have any food . . ." She came as far as the edge of the couch.

"I got up early and ran to the store," he shrugged. "Hope blueberry is alright."

Liv was noticeably taken aback. "I didn't hear you leave," she said, almost suspicious, "or come back."

El smiled. "That's because you didn't budge all night. Guess you don't get to laugh at reflexology anymore."

Liv nodded, cracking a wry grin. "Oh, it wasn't the reflexology. I was laughin at you."

He rolled his eyes as she decided it was safe to come into her kitchen. She opened the fridge and was genuinely excited to find three different kinds of juices. Pouring herself a big glass of grapefruit juice, she stole a peek at Elliot's pancakes, her stomach rumbling in appreciation.

"No sampling!" he chastised, making to slap her hand with the egg-turner.

Snorting, Liv hopped up and sat on the counter beside the sink, just behind where El was cooking. "I didn't wake up - at all?" she said, still mystified.

"Nope."

Soon, they were sitting in front of a couple of stacks of pancakes, dripping with butter and maple syrup. Olivia ate like she was breaking a record-long fast. When she at last came up for air, slightly embarrassed, she grinned.

"You working today?" she asked.

"Do you want me to work today?"

Liv swallowed, enough reality flooding back for her to register guilt again. "El, if you're off, I think you should go home and see Kathy. You never get much time to spend with them."

He sighed, joining her on the fence they had been riding for too long. Vaguely, he felt himself wish it was still dawn, with her hand wrapped around his neck.

"Kathy has a thing today. We've been looking at a few play centers for Eli - for him to have kids his own age to play with," he told her. It wasn't a complete lie - they had been looking at play centers, but he had no idea if there was an appointment that day. "But I can go into the office, if you need some time alone."

"You have a better idea?" she eyed him over her juice glass.

"Well, getting out of this damn apartment might do you some good," El suggested, "maybe even get outta the city. Change of scenery."

After a moment of consideration, Liv turned her face to his and flashed him a mischievous smirk, making El aware of that free-fall again. "Well . . . I _do_ have the perfect car for that."

Elliot wasn't sure which he had gaped at harder - Liv in tight dark jeans, a powder blue, scoop-neck sweater with buttons all down one sleeve, and a leather jacket, or her confession that she had bought a Mustang.

A black, 1965 Mustang _convertible_.

"Were you a big James Bond fan, or . . . ?" he teased, looking over the car appreciatively.

"I could be a Bond girl," Liv smirked. She climbed in the driver's side as she slipped on a pair of sunglasses. Elliot got in as well, the teen inside of him both excited and turned on as hell. "Actually," Liv said, turning the car on and shifting into gear, "I had a crush on Steve McQueen."

El laughed - a true, hearty laugh that she never heard at work. "I'm finding out so much about you, today. You own a vintage car. You can drive a stick. And your thing for older guys was Steve McQueen's fault."

Liv rewarded him with a snort as she pulled out to exit the parking garage. When they finally hit the road, he asked, "So where are we off to, Mrs. McQueen?"

"Let's see where the road takes us," she smiled.

It had been a fairly mild December so far - too cool to put the top down, but not so cold that they couldn't crack the windows and enjoy the cool air, the sounds of the city as it bustled into the early Christmas season. It wasn't until they were headed in the direction of Jersey City that Elliot broke their easy, pleasant silence.

"What's in Jersey?" he laughed.

"You ever been to Ellis Island?" Liv responded.

"The Statue of Liberty tour? Yeah. Once, when the kids were young."

"Well, I haven't," Liv confessed.

"Never? Really?"

"What - you think my drunk mom took me?" She glanced at him. "You would not have wanted Serena near the side of a ferry."

He skirted that quip altogether. "You got time off and the first thing you wanna do is climb up the Statue of Liberty?"

"To be fair, the first things I did were get a good night's sleep and inhale a stack of pancakes."

Elliot's cheeks pinked with pleasure.

"Besides," she shrugged, "it's not really the statue I'm interested in."

His brows furrowed. "The Immigrant Museum? Why?"

"Well, Stabler - believe it or not - next to car chases, learning about peoples' history is one of my favorite things."

"You don't say," El grinned, as the miles on their 40 minute drive slipped by the window, almost too fast for his liking.

"You hungry?" Olivia asked, looking over the Mustang's top at El as he got out. They had made it into Jersey, but Liv's stomach was rumbling again.

"I could go for a bite," he agreed.

"There's a fantastic little Italian deli not far from here. About fifteen minutes from the state park, give or take."

El watched her face, absorbed in skimming the screen of her Blackberry - for directions or the menu, he wasn't sure, but it didn't matter. He loved her like this: spontaneous, relaxed, talking. The depths of what the job had taken from them over their many years in sex crimes was an abyss that Elliot rarely got to peer over the edge of. He wished, suddenly, that Eli was with them, too. His mind seemed snagged in a net weaved of the glimpses of the alternate life he had never lived.

"For someone who's never been up the Statue of Liberty, how do you know Jersey so well?" he teased her.

"Oh, you know us Bond girls," she winked, "we keep busy."

Carmine's Italian Deli was an adorable little delicatessen tucked away on Mallory Avenue, and Elliot's mouth was watering before they even made it all the way inside. It was busy with the lunch hour, but there were a couple of tables left. As they got in line near the counter, Liv glanced back over her shoulder.

"See anything you like?"

El gestured. "All of it?"

'What's your favorite Italian food?" she tried.

"Whatever - I'm not fussy," he shrugged.

She waved a hand at him dismissively. "I'll order for you."

When they were up, Liv placed their orders speaking in Italian, confirming for Elliot that his cock was never not paying attention when she was nearby.

"You speak Italian?" he blinked.

"Enough to get by," she concurred.

"You really are a Bond girl, aren'tcha?"

"If I was, I'd never tell," she said smugly as they headed for one of the tables.

The day was bright and mild as it had been in Manhattan, and Liv daydreamed briefly out the window. As their sandwiches and two bottles of water were served up, it caught her off-guard, making her jump. All her nerve-endings were aflame again, reminding her why she and her high-startle response were off work.

"You okay?" El said softly. He was reminded, for the first time that day, that as much as he was good for Liv, he still was never going to be a magical cure for PTSD, and he was surprised by how melancholy that made him feel.

"Yeah." A deep breath. "I'm fine. Look good?" she nodded towards his meal.

"Good?" he scoffed. "I mean, if sex could be a sandwich . . . " he waggled his eyebrows over-dramatically.

"You'd trade sex for sandwiches?" Her face was skeptical.

"Not just sandwiches. _Sex_ sandwiches," he stressed. He watched as she pressed a finger to the sauce that was dripping from the end of her own sandwich, and sucked it from her fingertip slowly, her eyes closing in pleasure.

He cleared his throat and took a gulp of his water. "Then again . . . " he considered, "maybe not."

 **A/EN: I searched as far as I could to figure out if Carmine's Italian Deli would have been existing/open in 2008 when PTSD was first aired, but I couldn't find an establishment date for it. If any of you can confirm how old the business is (so I can edit if the deli is younger than 9 years old), that would be great. If there's anything else that seems inaccurate, such as temperatures, distance (I Google mapped everything), etc. please also feel free to private message me or review to let me know. Other than that, I did my best! Hope you enjoyed! Next chapter should be up relatively soon. :)**


	8. VIII

**A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH for all the reviews, the follows, the encouragement - you guys are great! I'm back, with chapter eight! As mentioned in my last note, I am Canadian, so anything I am writing about Manhattan/New Jersey I'm self-teaching through Google, Wikipedia and Google Maps where necessary. If there are any glaring problems or holes in those aspects of my story, please review or msg me privately so I can re-work them. Enjoy! Not sure where the story is heading from this point going forward, but wherever that is, I guess we'll go together. I do love reviews! Pairing is E/O, since that's all I'm interested in writing currently .**

 **Rating: M/MA - Heed the rating on this chapter, please!**

 **Spoilers: Major/Minor spoilers for Perverted, Swing, PTSD, Inconceivable, Paternity**

 **Disclaimer: Characters belong to Dick Wolf, not myself. No copyright infringement intended, and no money is being made.**

 ***VIII***

"Good thing we're early risers," Liv remarked, reading that ferry departures ended by 3:30pm. As they made their way to the ticket counter, Liv was fishing for her wallet in her jacket. El put his hand on top of hers when they reached the ticket counter. "I got it," he told her.

"It's okay, El. I don't mind," she insisted, pushing his hand away.

"No. I want to," he said more firmly. "You've never been, so you should be treated. So I'm getting it."

After a long look straight into his azure eyes, Liv pocketed her wallet. "Alright," she smiled, almost expecting El's chest to swell with pride. She reminded herself she was trying to let herself be taken care of.

With tickets in hand, they went in the direction pointed for the ferry departures. Olivia gazed quietly at the blue-gray expanse of December sky, more excited than she would ever admit to her partner.

"Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses," Elliot began, and Liv bumped her shoulder against his with a grin. "Yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

"They make you memorize that in Catholic school?" she teased.

"Naw. After we took the kids to the statue the first time, they would ask me to repeat it, every night for like two weeks, until practically all of us had it memorized. I've never forgotten it," he chuckled.

Liv sighed. "I wonder what ever happened to that golden door."

"People happened. And time." Not wanting her good mood to be marred, he went on. "You know, I never would've pegged you as into history."

"There are lots of things you probably would be surprised I'm into," she chuckled.

"Hey - I could say the same about me."

"Oh yeah?" she arched a brow. "What do you do, Stabler? You collect stamps?" She could see the ferry approaching in the distance.

"You wouldn't believe it if I told you."

"Try me," Liv said, intrigued.

"Music."

"What, like, collecting old records?" she looked at him.

"No, like _playing_ music," El smiled.

Her eyes widened unbelievably. "You play an instrument?!" she gaped.

"Told ya," he shrugged. "Don't believe me, do you?"

"I . . . I mean, the Mustang is one thing, but . . . " she crossed her arms over her chest. "What do you play?"

"Guitar. A buddy in the Marines taught me. It helped pass the time," he shrugged. "And, I liked it."

"Liked?" she said as they started boarding the ferry. "You don't play anymore?"

"No, not really. Life after was full of diaper duty and DIY around the house. Guess I just never found the time."

"That's a shame, Stabler - I was going to request you play me a song."

As the ferry finished filling up, Elliot allowed himself another of those unfamiliar belly laughs that only his mother had ever known well.

 _eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo_

They had already spent easily an hour in the museum. And Elliot would never tell, but he was really watching Liv enjoy herself, rather than paying much attention to the exhibits. He'd always imagined Olivia as someone who preferred to get as far away as possible from the academic - from learning - on her days off.

Her in the Mustang, top down and hair flying? Sure. Easy. But her as she was now, with her eyes lit up, excited and sorrowful at the same time, as she moved almost breathlessly through stories of the past . . .

It was beautiful. El wondered how the both of them had chosen a career that left so little room for moments like these.

"You know what else I'm into?" he said quietly, coming up behind her as she was reading.

"What's that, El?"

"Architecture," he confessed, hearing his mother's words

( _ **you wanted to be an architect!**_ )

from the beach. "This is a great building." Liv turned her head to look at him, her eyes soft and pleased. "Even with the blend of styles at the time, you can still see the Italian influences. Great arches and use of the pane glass for the windows. And the pillars - you'd never suspect it was designed by a guy with the last name Boring, huh?"

Olivia laughed. She'd never heard him talk like this. He was calm, relaxed, and even showing off a little. They weren't waiting for the phone to ring or interviewing victims.

"Did you know," she said, "that even now, over 100 million Americans - they all started here? That's forty percent of the country's population whose roots are here - " she waved her hand towards the nearest exhibit. "Where so many hopeful people dreamed of new lives."

"From the way some folks talk, you'd think this place never existed," El frowned. "That's 12 million people whose histories people wanna deny. That lamp is out, Liv - and most people don't wanna hear about the tempest-tossed nowadays."

"Not just those 12 million, El. The millions who were born to them, too. What can we do . . . to hang on to history?"

"We do what we can," he told her. "We're here. Learning. Seeing. Never forget - what is remembered, lives."

After a pause, she said, "It's not enough, Elliot," and turned, heading for the stairs and the next ferry out of the past.

 _eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo_

They hadn't been back on the road very long when Elliot glanced over at Liv thoughtfully.

"Hey Liv?"

"Mmm." She didn't turn her head.

"Tell me about . . . when Eli was born," he requested softly. He watched as she opened her mouth, then closed it without saying anything.

Then she swallowed heavily. "All of it?"

"All of it," he confirmed.

She took her time, recalling as much as she could - even the parts that had been terrifying. The sound of metal crunching, waking up and remembering what had happened, the feeling of her heart stopping, momentarily, when she saw Kathy trapped, and unconscious.

Liv talked him through all the details, of how long it took to cut Kathy free, of crawling back into the car and running Kathy's IV for the EMTs. She told him about the contractions, how Kathy had been told not to push.

"By the time we got to the bus, though, he was practically crowning," Liv explained, "she had no choice but to push. It didn't take long. She got to hold him right away." Liv took such a long pause, Elliot almost thought she was done.

"You know, I'd never seen anyone being born before. It has its own feeling that I . . . I can't explain," she told him. "Her pressure dropped, and the EMT passed me Eli. It felt so strange . . . that I was there, and you weren't. Strange, that I held him before you did."

She still hadn't taken her eyes off the road. "I was worried for a while that would bother you. That maybe you'd . . . I dunno, resent me."

He was astonished by how all of it had come pouring out of her. "You saved their lives, Liv. How could I resent you?"

She smiled. "Well. You have done it four other times. Guess it was alright to give someone who's never done it a turn."

It had been almost a year since the two of them had come within breathing distance of the topic of Liv's wanting children. He had so completely stuck his foot in his mouth during that time, that he'd never worked up the courage to go near it again. It was vulnerable ground from the start, with too many emotions tangled together.

Liv broke into his thoughts, speaking again: "At least, if I never have my own, then I'll always have that moment."

Elliot paled, his hands seeming to turn to ice. Olivia could never know how often, when she had asked about or interacted with Eli, that Elliot had wanted to say, _I wish he was yours. Ours_. He'd had to erect brand new barriers, just to keep those words from spilling off his tongue.

He was a man who had been blessed with many children. In fact, fatherhood had come into his life without much forethought - or any afterthought, for that matter. Kathy's mother had often joked that Elliot could produce another child simply by thinking about it too hard. He had no experience with women who wanted children and didn't or couldn't have them.

The fact that it was Olivia, whom he loved and had guarded for ten years like a bulldog, made it infinitely worse.

"Liv," he finally said, frustrated that his voice came out pained rather than confident, "don't say that. It'll happen."

She chuckled cynically. "I'm not as young as I used to be, El."

He looked at her for what seemed the longest moment, wanting to make sure he chose the right words. "You're going to be an amazing mother. I refuse to believe anything less."

She didn't reply, but she also didn't follow up with anything else that was self-detrimental. It had started to rain, and the car filled with the sound of the wipers stuttering against the glass.

They had passed some time in silence, and were most of the way back to Manhattan, when there was a sudden, loud bang. Both Olivia and Elliot jumped, and switched immediately to their cop reflexes.

"Goddammit!" Liv barked, as the Mustang fishtailed and started to pull to the right. She gripped the steering wheel harder and eased her foot off the gas.

"A tire blowout," El said, his band hovering over his off-duty weapon.

The car slowed to a stop with Liv steering carefully to the shoulder as they each took a couple of deep breaths.

"Christ!" she exclaimed, slapping the steering wheel angrily. "Sorry," she then mumbled for Elliot's benefit, smacking on her emergency flashers. "Why does it have to be raining?"

El chuckled. "You have a spare?"

"Yeah, in the back." El put his hand on the door handle but she reached for his shoulder, stopping him. "El. It's raining, you'll freeze!"

"Well what do you want to do?" he grinned, "sit here and get cold in the car, waiting for the rain to stop?"

Sighing, she growled softly, not liking any of the options. She pulled on the parking brake. "Everything's in the trunk," she told him resignedly.

"Won't take long," he assured her, and got out into the rain.

Liv let her head drop back against the driver's seat. The rain seemed to be getting heavier rather than lighter. "Fucking Mustang," she whispered to herself, still unsure why she'd bought it in the first place.

After about twenty minutes had passed, she shifted over the console and rolled down the passenger-side window. "Need a hand?" she shouted over the rain.

"Nah," Elliot called back after a pause, "almost done!"

He finished tightening the lug nuts the second time by wrench, and dropped the jack the rest of the way. A few minutes later, he was back in the passenger seat.

"Jesus, El - you're drenched!" Liv exclaimed.

His clothes were plastered to him, and rain dripped down his face in rivulets. He was shivering, and Liv blasted the heat. "Well, the tire's on," he told her, "but the pressure's not great." He grimaced slightly. "We're gonna have to find a gas station if you expect to drive on it. Especially at highway speeds in this rain."\

"Yeah. Okay," she conceded, releasing the parking brake and shifting out of park. "We'll take the next exit," she conceded.

The next exit turned out not to be too far, and they took it, coming off the highway and eventually into what seemed to be the relative middle of nowhere. Liv drove slowly, peering through what was now verging on a rainstorm, until she spotted a mom-n-pop local gas station called 'Sam's Sprockets'.

She rolled the Mustang to a stop, then park, at the air pump and didn't protest this time when Elliot got out to go back to the tire. Hoping that the station had some bad but hot coffee, she got out as well and sprinted through the rain.

Shaking off raindrops as the door shut behind her, bell still tinkling to alert the attendant, she scanned the store. She didn't spot any coffee, but wandered further back to be sure. Plenty of shelves stocked with expensive convenience items - candy, bread, paper towel, canned goods - but nothing resembling a hot beverage. As she turned away from the back cooler, a tall, older man stood up from where he must have been crouched, in the aisle to Liv's right.

"Hello, darlin," he said, bright enough to seem like he was trying.

But he had caught her off-guard and her body was already racing toward fight or flight. Heart racing, she fought against a flashback, wide-eyed, breathing fast. The older man hadn't moved, but was looking at Olivia with confusion and concern.

Then, from her left at shoulder height, Elliot's voice, and her chest unlocked.

"Liv," he said softly. "You're alright." She took a deep breath. "Everything's okay."

"You all need anything?" the man asked then. "Sorry I don't have any towels," he chuckled, noticing Elliot was soaked through.

"No, we're okay," El assured him, squeezing Liv's shoulder encouragingly. "Just hopin for a hot drink's all."

"If you keep on goin, bout fifteen minutes down the straight, " the man said, "there's a little coffee shop."

"Thanks," El flashed a charming smile that evaporated any worry the old man had left. He ushered Liv back to the door and then out to the car again. "Tire's good to go," he told her as he settled back in with her. "Did you want to go to that coffee place?"

Liv shook her head, letting out the breath she'd been holding, still calming herself.

"You okay?" he asked, more gently.

"Yeah. Yeah," she brushed it off, sitting straighter in her seat.

"Sure you don't want some coffee?" he tried again. "We should probably wait out this rain, anyway."

The weather outside had officially become a downpour, and Elliot wasn't in the mood to mix the slightly-off spare tire on the antique with reduced visibility.

As if she hadn't even heard him, Liv reached out and brushed her hand down his wet, cold left arm where his light sweater still clung. "I'm sorry you're so wet and cold," she whispered.

"I'll live," El smiled. She still appeared to be a bit in a daze, as she began to rub more firmly from his shoulder to the crook of his elbow, trying to warm him. "Liv?"

He turned to face her a bit more fully, as best he could in his seat. It resulted in Liv adding her other hand, now vigorously rubbing both of his cold arms. "Hey. Liv," he whispered, still worried.

Elliot raised his hands between them and placed them over Liv's wrists gently, stilling her movements abruptly. Her eyes were wide again as he met them with his steel blues, but she spoke before he could again.

"I don't want you to think I'm **_weak!_** " It was a choked whisper, so low it was almost a hiss. Her eyes welled with tears.

The rain assaulted the roof with its aggressive staccato. Their breathing was loud inside the car. Suddenly, the goosebumps raised on his arms and belly weren't entirely the fault of the cold.

"Olivia," he said, his voice was firm, but still quiet. Gravely serious. "You are the strongest woman I've known in all my life. Nothing could ever change that." Their eyes hadn't broken their study of each other.

It was Liv who moved first - pulling her wrist from under El's hand, reaching up to catch a raindrop that glistened near his eyebrow, threatening to drip. She swiped it with her thumb, then hesitated, drawing the thumb down his temple and along the line of his jaw. El closed his eyes out of reflex as heat finally bloomed under his chilled skin. He shivered.

And that was when he felt Liv's lips against his.

He didn't dare move - didn't even take a breath, too scared that she would stop. Liv leaned into it, her hand on the side of his face then, her lips brushing and then pressing, learning the feel of them that she'd so often wondered about.

When her tongue flicked out and caught his lip, the breath he'd been holding rushed out as a moan. Liv jumped on the opportunity and leaned even further over the console, opening her mouth to his moan and inviting him inside. His blood was rushing then, making him forget he was cold, his hand leaving Liv's wrist and finding a new home against the side of her neck. He pulled, he squeezed, needing to devour her. Their lips, teeth, tongues clashed, refusing to take turns. El's mind reeled, unable to comprehend how he had made it ten years, without the feel and taste of her mouth, her kiss.

When they were forced to break for want of oxygen, they gasped in air. The car was parked, off, a dark hulk in the heavy rain, at the side of the gas station where there were no windows facing, no door. They had exited to Nowhere, Jersey, and nobody else would find them there.

Olivia's tongue was against his again, when her hands found the bottom of his damp sweater between them. She slid her hands beneath it, and found his cool belly, his abs flexed with tension. It was her turn to moan then, and Elliot was immediately grateful to have lived all the way to that very moment. Both of his hands held her neck, her hair was damp against his fingers as she ran her hands up his chest, circling his hard, small nipples then scraping over them.

Liv made a frustrated noise in her throat, obstructed in too many ways by the console for her liking. Her fingertips danced over the crotch of his jeans, feeling for signs of life.

She wasn't disappointed and smiled into their kissing. "You're warming up," she teased.

"Liv . . . " he mumbled, "can I . . . touch you?"

Pulling his hands gently from her neck, she brought them down over the rise of her breasts and to her waist where the hem of her sweater met her jeans. That's where she left them, momentarily, so she could pull her sweater up, and scoop her breasts free of her bra cups. When she picked his hands up again, she leaned in so she could whisper in his ear. "Please, Elliot," was all she could say.

Her breasts fit his hands like he had crafted them, and his cock was straining, uncomfortable with him twisted in the seat. Brushing his thumb over her nipples, he watched her head fall back and dove for her exposed throat, suckling against her frantic pulse point.

"Oh, God . . . " she exhaled.

As best he could in the cramped space, El pressed a hand to her lower back, pushing her into an arch and supporting her with his arm. When his mouth wrapped around a dusky nipple, she shook in his arms, the sensation of his stubble heightening everything. Liv writhed in his arms, digging her fingertips into any part of him she could reach.

"Olivia. Olivia," he gasped, her name like a substitute for _Amen_.

With a solid shove, she got Elliot back in the passenger seat upright, and crawled as far over the console as she could, kissing his mouth, his neck, his earlobes. Her hands went to his waist.

Button undone.

Zipper pulled down.

Her hand ending his erection's pain as she freed it to harden even further, throbbing in her grip.

"Jesus!" El hissed. He was a teenager again, somehow - fucking in a car, turned on to the point of being nearly embarrassed by the slickness of his own cock, leaving precum on Liv's hand.

And she was fucking _grinning_. "Fuck, El," she said quietly, "you feel incredible."

After several minutes of shifting and swearing in regards to the impracticality of their location, Liv managed to stretch out some, with her feet backed up against the driver's door. With a drop of her head, she took Elliot into her mouth, with one hand on his shoulder and her other tugging his testicles with intent.

As a devout Catholic, Stabler could count on one hand the total number of blowjobs he'd received. His cock rejoiced at adding to that number, as El's hips bucked, his erection throbbed, and Olivia hummed with satisfaction.

"You taste perfect," she rumbled, running her tongue around the crown of him. Everything about him was safety, was familiar, the job, and an overwhelming sense of belonging.

"Liv - " he panted, needing to prevent an early ending, "please. I need you. To be in you," he groaned.

It took long minutes, and bordered on requiring Algebra, to get Liv's jeans and panties off in the front seat. She backed up, leaning against the door; it was El's turn to wrestle over the console as she pulled her legs up, tucking her hands behind her knees.

His heart was in his throat, wild at the full sight of her. Gorgeous, wet, pink and complemented by a short, dark strip of hair that was immaculately trimmed. Reaching out a trembling hand, he parted her folds, just looking. Her clit was hard, engorged. There was a slick drop of her wetness at her entrance, which he pressed a finger to, dying to taste her.

Elliot met her eyes as he cleaned his fingertip with his mouth. She was smirking, her mouth slightly open. "Taste good?"

He nodded. "Better than I've ever been able to imagine on my own." Looking down again, he returned his finger to collect another drop, swiping it up and around her swollen clit. El pressed against her, rubbing soft, slow circles, amazed that she kept getting wetter.

Harder.

Faster circles.

She was panting, having trouble keeping her hands in place. El had his brow furrowed, concentrating, memorizing in case he never found himself there again. When he did, at last, sink two fingers into her, it was as though the torrential rain disappeared. The only moisture in El's world was around his fingers, dripping a path to his palm. It was all warmth, a fire lighting every nerve.

"Olivia," he pleaded, "come for me."

She had never been good at denying him. Liv moaned unintelligible praise that was drowned out by the rain and Elliot's steady encouragement. He managed to get his body upright, back in his seat again, sucking his fingers while Olivia came back to earth.

Her eyes were shining when he looked at her again, and he was struck, as always, by how deeply he loved her. How deeply he had loved her, for so long. El offered her his hand, helping her back to the passenger seat, where she placed a knee on either side of his lap.

They were so close that his exhales fluttered her hair. The lines of her body mesmerized him. He kissed her gently, waiting for her to take the lead. Reaching between them, she gripped him again, brushing just the head of him between her swollen lips, panting each time it drew across her clit.

She looked him right in the eye when she finally sank down over his rigid cock and the thought in her eyes was so clear he grunted with the force of it.

 _Taking what's mine._

There was nothing but them. Nothing but the heat of them, connected in the one place they had not yet been in a decade. Everything had boiled down to monosyllables: throb, ache, thrust, wet, fuck.

Liv squeezed herself around his length, letting her eyes slip closed. She rocked against him, her breath heavy, her hands braced on his shoulders. There was no room for him to lay back, or to flip her over and stroke her fast, as hard as he wanted.

He settled for gripping her hips and helping her lift , rock, and slide down him as best he could. He could never tire of watching her. Her lips were kiss-swollen, her cheeks flushed, her nipples hard in the chill.

Liv became frantic, grinding into his lap. "Ellllll," she drew his name out, "mmm . . . "

He pressed his hand down, slipping easily to her clit, rubbing quickly. He was sure his cock was going to shatter.

She began a mantra, "Yes, El . . . yes, El . . . yes, El!"

Olivia screamed.

El saw nothing but white, and maybe stars, as he came inside her, convinced he'd never be cold again.

Long, long minutes after with Liv curled on top of him, her head on his shoulder:

"Elliot. I love you."

Her voice seemed tiny in the shadow of the day.

The metaphorical calendar and the faceless man who normally marked time in Elliot's head had left the room altogether.

"God, I love you too," he answered.

There was a message left on that calendar he recognized so well, scrawled across the entire space:

 _Where do we go from here?_


	9. IX

**A/N: Here is chapter 9! I'm thinking that I'll finally be wrapping this up after this with one more chapter. I feel like I owe you guys the heads up that this story won't be one of those "Elliot leaves Kathy and lives happily ever after with Olivia" endings. So if that's your preferred thing, you may want to bail out before the next chapter is over. Haha I'm not really intending on a sad ending either, though, if that helps you. Writing the angst was intense for me this chapter, plus I was down with a nasty cold for a week and was too tired to write. Please enjoy! I do love reviews! Pairing is E/O, since that's all I'm interested in writing currently.**

 **Rating: M/MA - Heed the rating on this chapter, please!**

 **Spoilers: Major/Minor spoilers for Perverted, PTSD, Smut**

 **Disclaimer: Characters belong to Dick Wolf, not myself. No copyright infringement intended, and no money is being made.**

 *** IX ***

By the time they got back onto the highway and into Manhattan, the rain had finally relented. Their silence on the rest of the drive had not been awkward, yet Elliot wondered what would happen once they were back to their day-to-day lives and routines.

After the picnic kiss, they had spent weeks going on as if nothing had happened. El knew better than to think they could turn back from this place they'd reached - but he worried that Liv would try.

They parked the Mustang and he reminded her to switch out the spare before she drove again. Without invitation, he followed her up to her apartment, but stopped short of crossing the threshold. Liv tossed her keys onto the counter and then turned back to face him, looking him over as he leaned against the door jamb, arms crossed.

"Thank you . . . " she said slowly, "for spending all this time with me."

El's pulse began to pound and his mind whispered, _Don't Liv . . . don't shut me out. Please_.

"My pleasure," he said, his lips numb as he smiled.

She crossed to face him, her eyes never leaving his mouth. El found himself not wanting to go home to Kathy. Such an alien feeling for a man who had so much built on fidelity, on family - until that day.

When Liv reached up and touched his lip gently with a fingertip, he looked nervously into her beautiful dark eyes. Elliot was not a man who knew how to be vulnerable, and now he was out of control and alive. His whole life seemed a scorched desert, and he had finally found an oasis. If he drank too much too fast, he'd surely die. But he wasn't sure there was a force that could turn him away.

"I don't wanna . . . go . . . without," he faltered, her finger still at his mouth.

Maybe that was the whole thought: _I don't want to go without_. He opened his mouth and the tip of Liv's finger slid inside. He moved his tongue against it, hearing her breathing quicken. She pulled her hand back and replaced her finger with her mouth, tasting his tongue like she hadn't been doing just that, barely an hour ago.

Taking his hand as she kissed him, she pushed it into her jeans, desperate to feel him against her again. Elliot found her center, sighing into their kiss.

Oasis.

Elliot picked her up easily, wrapped her around his waist and kicking the door shut behind them. He took her to the bed he'd spent recent nights chasing demons away from. He undressed her tenderly, reverently, admiring every curve and dip that the confines of the Mustang had hidden.

His lips marked her in ways he had never even dreamed. The skin behind her knees, the underside of her breasts. For ten years, he had been puffing out his chest like a rooster, chasing off the men who'd dare come near Olivia - all because of his conviction that this moment was somewhere to be found.

El memorized every part of her dark skin, and the sounds his touch drew from her lips. As her inner thighs quivered with her soundless anticipation, he rested his cheek there, catching his breath.

When he dipped his tongue into her wet heat, tasting her in ways his fingertip never could, he felt humbled. El drank deep, parting her over and over with his tongue, flicking her engorged clit with its tip, before drawing it into his mouth.

They had found a place, at last, where there was no job, no evil they had to chase at the price of their sanity. There was no world outside to complicate the purity of their coming together. The power and freedom of her body under him, so willingly given was more than he could take.

"Oh God," Liv breathed, "Elliot . . . "

He moved his tongue over her again, harder. "Come, Liv . . . I want you to come in my mouth," he told her, his voice low. She moaned at his request, arching under his mouth.

He slipped a finger into her, fucking her with it slowly, his mouth never leaving her swollen clit. There would never be enough of her for him to claim.

She came with a long, gritted growl of his name, and her clit pulsed against his tongue, rewarding him with more for him to drink from her. Olivia had a taste that went straight to his cock.

When Elliot finally pulled away and covered her body with his, he saw she was crying. His veins filled with ice. Reaching trembling fingers to her face, he whispered, "Liv? Do you want me to stop?"

Her arms flew around his neck in response. "No! El. Don't stop. Don't ever stop. Please . . . " her words were a whimpered supplication. She took a deep breath, reaching between them to wrap her hand around his cock. Turning her mouth to his ear, she whispered, "Love me, El. I've waited so long."

Still holding him, she guided him to where she needed him to be. With a shift of his hips, Elliot was buried in her - and closer to understanding her tears. Elliot moved slowly, working to control himself, not wanting to leave this cocoon of safety they'd found.

Liv's fingers danced over his buttocks, and he moved harder. She was so wet he could hear their sliding together. He groaned, "Liv . . . God . . . you're amazing."

She responded by bucking her pelvis to meet his as he thrust. The weight and warmth of her, pushing against the base of his cock made him cry out and pick up speed.

"Liv," he whispered, "Liv . . . look at me." She met his eyes and it was all he needed. They never took their eyes from each other as he shook, emptying in her, while her breath hitched, up and up . . . and then out, as she joined him in that safe place that had taken ten years to find.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

The sound of El's cell phone ringing brought them out of their reverie. They weren't asleep - not really - just silent in the yawn of the afternoon, tangled together in a moment they knew was borrowed.

El extracted himself from the comfortable embrace and dug his phone from the pocket of his discarded pants. Liv was grateful that he took the call out of the bedroom, even shutting the door behind him.

"Elliot, where have you been?" Kathy asked, "When are you coming home?"

Just the sound of her voice was like a weight bearing down on him that constricted his chest. He struggled to hang onto the day, to hang onto feeling safe.

"Hey hun. I've been workin." The lies came so easily, smooth. "I'm coming home soon." His eyes flickered to the closed bedroom door.

Home was on the other side of that door, and Elliot was deeply afraid that he'd never get there again.

"Uh-huh," he mumbled, not really hearing Kathy's voice at all. When her voice stopped, he inserted, "Okay, see you both soon."

When he turned to the door again, it was open. Liv stood there, in a t-shirt and a pair of shorts she'd thrown on. "Everything okay?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah. It's just - "

"Time to go home," she finished for him.

Elliot sighed and balled a fist, looking down at the phone in his hand, resisting the urge to pitch it against the wall.

"Olivia," he tried, his voice filled with pain he could hardly recognize as his own.

She shook her head and forced a weak smile. "It's fine."

 _The lies came so easily. Smooth._

"They're your family, El," she said.

He felt all of it - the comfort, the safety, the life he'd felt catch fire in him - slipping back to the who-knew-where from whence it'd came. Defeated and unsure of himself, he stepped past Liv in the doorway and got himself dressed.

She was at the end of the kitchen counter when he came out and crossed to the apartment door, slipping into his shoes. El met her eyes, willing himself not to tremble at the possibility of leaving without touching her.

Liv took a step towards him. "Have a good night, El," she said. With her arms crossed, she leaned in and up, catching his lips in a soft, brief kiss.

As he stepped into the hallway, he was acutely aware of the door shutting and locking behind him. If that was the kiss he was now supposed to live on, Elliot knew he would surely starve.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

The next morning, Elliot found himself in the locker room of the 1-6, head in his hands. He had spent a sleepless night on the couch, after chastely kissing Kathy and holding Eli long enough for Kathy to relax, to stop asking questions.

Olivia's desk was still empty.

He had texted her just after dawn, checking on her . . . finding excuses to keep in touch. She hadn't answered him. Elliot had never felt so unstable - like a teenager, caught in the middle of a breakup by text message.

And part of this huge, cosmic joke was his realization of how much he had always relied on his work relationship with Liv, long before finding respite in her body. His day had barely begun and everything was off-kilter. He'd left without waking Kathy, had to remind himself three times that he didn't need to bring coffee or breakfast for Liv, and had stared at her empty desk long enough to draw questions from both Cragen and Fin.

El got up and checked his phone for just about the hundredth time in the last two hours. Still nothing. With a growl of disgust at himself, he headed back to the bullpen wondering how long before he stopped feeling like a stranger in his own life.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

"Figured I'd find you up here."

Elliot turned, the sound of Liv's voice washing over him like warm water over frost. Despite being irritated that she hadn't texted him all day, Elliot smiled at her as she approached him on the precinct roof.

"How was the day?" she asked him.

He shrugged. "Long. You okay?"

"I'm okay."

Elliot wanted to touch her. He wanted to pick her up and place her on the low cement ledge and stand between her legs. To close his eyes and be in that safe place again so he could stop feeling untethered.

Olivia slid her hand into El's, and he let out a breath he'd been holding.

"Nobody wins, here, El," she told him quietly. He opened his mouth to contradict her, but shut it again as she levelled a look at him. "Eli is . . . so young," she exhaled. "He's the entire reason you went home in the first place." She was telling him the truths he was too afraid to tell himself.

"Even if i asked you to, which I wouldn't, you shouldn't leave that. Eli deserves as much of you as the rest of your kids had. I've never met a man more born to be a father."

Elliot ached to tell her about the man only his mother had really envisioned, who was passionate about more than just the monsters who preyed on children. He wanted to be vulnerable with her, tell her of the life he dreamed of, if Kathy and the Marines had never happened. El wanted to show her he was more than just responsibility, honour, duty. He was more than just a man who followed orders.

He squeezed the hand in his. "Liv - " he said painfully. He so clearly recalled the moment he had first told Olivia that Kathy was pregnant for the last time - and even then, in their interrupted moment, it had felt like something immense had slipped away.

"Elliot," she breathed, "we just can't. There's too much at stake."

He knew she was right. He felt ripped in half, suffocated, pinned. In an effort to feel something, anything other than pain, Elliot picked Olivia up swiftly, hands at her hips, and sat her on the ledge they'd been facing. Cupping her face in his hands, he brought his mouth to hers, seeking some unearthly answer that life wasn't providing.

When Liv stopped the kiss with a hand to El's wrist, he dropped his from her face, both of them panting. She slid from the ledge.

"I'm coming back to work," she told him. Not waiting for a reply, she walked back to the door to the stairs, and left him on the roof, alone in the December chill.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

True to her word, Olivia came back to work. Their mutual pain and frustration immediately found a case to bury themselves in. Going through the motions did, somehow, make it a little more bearable. And they pulled it off well enough that nobody at the squad was asking questions.

But sooner rather than later, they were butting heads.

He hadn't been to her apartment since the day they got back from Jersey. Elliot had been watching Liv drink more and more coffee as the days went on. He knew she wasn't sleeping - he had only been catching a few hours here and there himself, mostly in the crib at work. It was killing him, killing them both, slowly.

On the roof, she may have been right, but El already knew this was never going to work.

Olivia came slamming through the unit door. "What the hell were you thinking?!"

El eyed her, wary, irritated. He had been waiting for this fallout. "I was thinkin about getting a serial rapist off the street," he answered, rising from his desk to face down Liv's rage.

"I wanna catch the guy as much as you do, but what about Laurel Andrews?!"

He stopped himself from shaking his head at her, hearing her distance herself, as if 'the guy' hadn't already been in their grip. "How many times have you said confronting the attacker is the only way to move on?"

"Laurel doesn't have to move on!" Liv cried, "In her mind she wasn't even raped!"

Caught between anger and sympathy, knowing she was identifying with the vic, El kept pushing toward logic, toward the great detective he knew she was. "Lutz will learn from his mistakes, he'll improve his M. O., and then we'll never get him. You can't change what happened to Laurel."

"I can protect her from the damage."

Reaching for his jacket, El's anger rose back to the surface. "No. You can't. You know that better than anyone."

He left Liv, gaping after him as he went out the door she had come crashing through. Barely a moment later, he heard the door again, and Olivia rocketing after him.

"How _dare_ you?!" she bit out. He didn't stop walking, and her hand landed on his shoulder, pulling him roughly to face her.

El's anger drained out of him when he met her eyes. if he thought she would let him, without punching him, he'd back her up into the nearest quiet room and remind her that his mouth knew how to help her heal, too.

"Liv. Listen to me. If we want to keep this guy from hurting someone else - and you do, I know you do - then Laurel Andrews is our best and only shot at doing it. Show Laurel how to be strong," Elliot lowered his voice, touching her forearm lightly.

" _That's_ what you're best at, Liv. You're great with the victims because you show them how to reclaim their lives, not focus on the damage. And I need you on this."

Olivia's lip trembled, and he wondered if it was for want of crying, or for want of kissing. "Liv, I'm sorry. Just . . . help me on this. Please."

She stood up a little straighter, take a deep breath. "Yeah." She nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."

Elliot waited for her to start down the hall, always allowing her to lead the way.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

The Lutz case dragged on for much longer than either of them could have anticipated. Being there for Laurel was taking a noticeable toll on Liv, and Elliot's strength for leaving her to her own devices was wearing thin.

Just when it seemed they could see the light at the end of the tunnel, they'd been forced to hand over the information requiring Judge Moredock to recuse himself. And just like that - back to square one.

Olivia was in the squad room the following day, pouring herself another cup of what now seemed like an endless amount of coffee she consumed on a daily basis. Elliot was at his desk, not quite paying attention to anything in particular. Neither of them had slept well in the weeks since they had made the decision not to be together. At home, El and Kathy had been bickering over . . . well, everything, which was beginning to take its toll on Eli.

Elliot knew something had to give, and soon.

"Detective Benson?"

El vaguely recognized the voice to be Laurel Andrews'. The next thing he heard was a sharp slap, as Laurel hit Olivia across the face. He saw red before he could help himself, stumbling up from his desk, at the ready to shoot across the squad room.

But Liv held out a hand to stop him. "I'm fine," she nearly whispered, her voice still shocked.

"You're going to make me go through this again?!" Laurel cried.

"It was my duty to turn those photos over," Liv explained, her voice controlled, trying to rein Laurel in.

"I thought your duty was to protect victims like me?!" she spat.

"Believe me, Laurel, the last thing that I wanna do is to hurt your case."

But Laurel was beyond reining in. "You made me remember - relive that awful night!" she accused Olivia tearfully, "And now for the rest of my life I will never get those horrible images out of my head!"

Liv opened her mouth to respond, but Laurel jumped back in, enraged. " - and I _**won't**_ testify again!" She swung on her heel without even considering giving Liv a chance to try again.

Elliot crossed to Olivia before Laurel could finish blowing out of the unit like a storm. "You okay?" Her cheek was flaring red from the slap and El winced internally.

"No." Liv gave a long glance over El's shoulder and then left the unit as well, leaving him wanting, yet fearing, clarification.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

After her breakthrough regarding the engagement ring Lutz had purchased, Cragen had insisted that Olivia shower and get some sleep while he put together the phone trace that would make up the next part of Olivia's plan.

Excited but exhausted, Liv climbed the stairs to the crib, thinking ahead to what she'd say to convince Lutz to do what she needed. She entered the dim room and reached for the switch, thinking it ws empty - then caught her breath when she saw Elliot.

He was asleep on what he considered 'his' cot, near the middle, face to the ceiling and one hand resting on his lower stomach. His hand had pushed his shirt up, just high enough that Liv could see his belly button and a smattering of dark hairs.

Her heart dropped, and her groin filled with heat and blood as she remembered the feel of that belly against hers. Taking a breath, she was irritated to realize it was shaking. She gave her head a shake, left the light off and took a few steps closer to him, watching his chest rise and fall. The want to touch him . . . to collapse on top of him in order to be able to really sleep, was immense. Liv was dizzy and nauseous with it.

She missed the way she had slept when Elliot had stayed with her. She wanted the heat, the shelter of his body. This separation from each other that she had imposed, she now feared would kill her. With a final, hungry look, she rounded the corner to the showers.

When the hot water hit her body, Liv couldn't stop herself from letting out a groan. She had been working non-stop almost 18 hours and needed to relax. She tried to do just that, watching the water course down over her skin. There was just a standard bar of soap in the precinct showers, and she reached for it, sliding it down over her belly. Bringing it up between her legs, she discovered that at least one part of her was still thinking about Elliot.

Pulling the soap away, she slid a finger into its place, touching softly, licking her lips. When her fingertip found her slippery clit, she whimpered. Liv thought of Elliot - the taste of him, the throbbing hardness of him, around her and in her.

Sheer terror was the only thing that kept her from screaming in the next moment, when a strong, heavy arm slid around her from behind. And then she could feel the belly she'd just been pining for, against her back. Liv felt the dark hairs, too, and Elliot's hard cock.

"Let me do that," his low voice rumbled next to her ear. He pulled her hand away, replacing it with his own.

Olivia let her tired head fall back to his shoulder as his thick, warm fingers found their way home.


	10. X

**A/N: We made it! This is it - the final chapter. Thanks so much for coming along for the ride with me. More notes from me at the end of the chapter. I do love reviews! Pairing is E/O, since that's all I'm interested in writing currently .**

 **Rating: M/MA - please heed the rating for this chapter**

 **Spoilers: Major/Minor spoilers for Annihilated/Screwed/Philadelphia/Swing/Smut**

 **Disclaimer: Characters belong to Dick Wolf, not myself. No copyright infringement intended, and no money is being made.**

 ***X***

 _Is it war if you fight it?  
Is it love when you don't?  
There is more when you let go  
Of the fear that you can't - Benediciton, Luke Sital-Singh_

"Elliot," she started, thinking of all the reasons she should say no, all the reasons why she should say stop. But her need to feel safe was too much. Her need to sleep soundly was close behind. There was a power in their coming together that was addictive.

El moved her wet hair, placing an open-mouthed kiss on the nape of her neck, his exhaled breath raising goosebumps. He groaned as quietly as he could as he ran his finger over Liv's clit. "You're so swollen," he told her, "I love that. I love how hard your clit gets."

Liv was trembling - could feel the quiver of her thigh muscles, and was grateful he was holding her up. She pushed back against him, sliding her wet backside against his erection, nestled in the center of her ass cheeks.

"Fuck," he mumbled, turning his mouth to the hollow of her neck. "This is insane. What you do to me . . . "

She turned in his arms, pressing her mouth to his hard chest as her hand dropped to his cock. Her clit throbbed at the feel of him in her hand, thick and hot, pulsing. Liv jerked him, dizzy with the sensation of the soft skin sliding, sliding.

"I think I'm dripping," she told him hoarsely.

"Let me taste you." El kneeled on the hard tile, urging Liv back against the wall. Wrapping his arms under and around her thighs, he lifted her high enough to get her legs over his shoulders, his weight holding her against the wall.

Flattening his tongue, he drew it up, between her folds, stopping at her clit to suck hard, then dragging his tongue back down, plunging it into her.

"Fuck," Liv hissed, thankful for the late hour and the how empty the precinct was. A few more minutes later, she buried her fingers into his short hair. "El, Jesus . . . I'm gonna . . . "

"Do it," he mumbled into her pussy, lapping at her. "Please." He rode it out with her as she bucked against the cool, tiled wall, drinking like a bird at a beloved fountain.

Somehow, they found their way back to their feet without either of them crashing. "Lord, I'm old," Elliot whispered, rubbing his angry knees.

Olivia smiled. "Lucky for you, I like old guys."

"Yeah, lucky for me," he chuckled. "C'mere, beautiful." He pulled her to him, kissing her full lips, his skin breaking out with fresh goosebumps at the feel of her breasts against him, her slippery thighs.

Liv's breathing was finally even, as she let go, allowing the shelter and strength of El's body to clean away everything heavy in her. "Turn around," he said lowly, nibbling at her neck.

Turning in his arms, Liv leaned forward, bracing herself against the shower wall with both hands. Elliot's hand flattened against her back, slipping down her spine slowly, encouraging her to arch her ass out toward him. She was panting again as he stepped up behind her, teasing the head of his cock at the source of her dripping wetness.

"Elliot," she breathed.

"God you feel good," he rumbled.

"Please."

"Are you begging right now, Benson?" he smirked. Then, more serious, "Say it again."

"Please, Elliot," she gasped.

"Please what?"

"Please . . . fuck me. I need you . . . so empty without you."

He parted her with both hands, watching himself slide inside her, her wet wanting engulfing him. She whimpered, and he could feel his cock twitch inside her pussy in response.

Liv dropped one of her hands from the wall to her clit, stroking and quivering under El's touch.

"Jesus, Liv," he said, drawing back to sink back into her. The push of his pelvis against her ass drew a grunt from her lips that nearly undid him, and he sped up, dizzy with the slap of their bodies and how unbelievably wet she was.

Their time apart had weakened their self-control, and Olivia was over the edge, coming hard, before she knew it. Elliot closed his eyes and focused with exactness on the feel of his cock, buried inside her, pulsing, filling.

He wanted to love her again before he could even pull all the way out of her. Liv stood from the wall and turned back to him just long enough to meet his eyes, before she dropped to her knees and took his cock deep into her throat, tasting both of them as she swallowed.

Reaching down, Elliot caught Liv by the armpits and drew her up to him. He shut off the shower and wrapped Liv in his arms as they caught their breath.

"What're we gonna do, El?" she asked quietly.

"Well. Right now, we're gonna get some sleep," he told her.

"But - "

"We're going to sleep," he said more firmly. He pulled a towel around her shoulders. "C'mon."

 _eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo_

Olivia's head rose and fell with Elliot's even breathing. His heartbeat was strong and steady. But she knew he wasn't sleeping.

They were in Olivia's bed, with her body pressed on top of El's, enjoying the silence after hours of lovemaking. She watched her curtains, fluttering in the cool Winter breeze, admiring what little moonlight she could see, and the reflection of Manhattan lights against the low clouds.

The Lutz case was long-since settled. Their work relationship had returned to normal. And they had continued to sleep together.

Somehow, without discussing it in any great detail, they had simply slipped into a routine. They would sneak or grab as much time together on the job as they could - some nights catching whatever sleep they could muster in the crib. Many nights, she went home alone, while Elliot had to go home to Kathy to at least make an appearance.

It was far from perfect, but both of them were sleeping and there was no more fighting at work. But some nights, like this one, with her fingers tracing El's pecs, and their skin warm, soft against one another, Olivia's guilt overwhelmed her.

"This is not who you are, El," she mumbled against his chest, not sure what she hoped to achieve.

"To be completely honest, Liv, even I'm not always sure I know who I am," he admitted, sounding older than he was, and tired.

"Of course you do," she furrowed her brow stubbornly. "You're a husband. A father." Liv pressed her lips to his chest. "A man of faith. A family man."

Elliot took her hand and threaded their fingers together. "But . . . before I was any of those things, Liv, I was a Marine. And before that . . . I was just me. You know? I guess I never planned things very well."

"But you love Kathy."

"I did. I do - but God," he sighed, "I was so young. I love my kids, and I love the squad. And I love Kathy for raising my kids while I chased this career." He brought her hand in his to his mouth and kissed it. "But I also love you, Liv. I spend so much time thinking about that version of me you never met, and who I could've been if I'd made different choices."

There was a long, quiet moment while Liv considered all this.

"You don't believe everything happens for a reason?" she asked.

"I don't know," El mused. "I'm sure the endgame woulda been the same: I woulda had kids, I would have gotten married. Just not as fast. I guess . . . I just wish it had been more about choice, and less about duty."

She trailed her free hand up over his body lightly, feeling his cock twitch, his abs tighten. "Well, if you had never chosen to go to the Academy, you and I never would have met." She smiled. "I never wanted to be anything other than a cop."

"Oh, I probably still would've joined the force," El conceded. "It was what my father expected of me."

"Is that why you did it?" Liv felt such sympathy for this man who had lived for responsibility for so many years.

"Well . . . mostly, yeah. My pop was always so bitter about how he went out. Like his legacy had been interrupted, when he got forced out. It just seemed like a given - that it was my job to pick up where he left off. He needed me to finish what he couldn't."

Elliot took a deep breath at the threat of his voice breaking. _Just like with my mother_ , he thought. Joe Stabler had never figured out a way to love the whirlwind that was his wife - he had left that job for Elliot, as well. It was no task for a child, who'd ended up building walls around his tender parts - any part that resembled Bernie Stabler - to keep his mother safe.

"Whoever I was," Elliot whispered, "before Kathy, and the Marines . . . I feel like that man is still someone I could be . . . when I'm with you."

Propping herself up on her elbow, Liv met his eyes in the filtered light. "I happen to love the man you became, Stabler," she said tenderly, running a thumb over his lips.

"I'm glad you do." He frowned. "But Liv . . . you deserve so much better than this. More than sneaking, and having to share me, and this half-assed crap. God, there's so much I want to give you." His chest shuddered as he sighed.

"You know what I think," Liv replied firmly.

And he did. She made it abundantly clear that she didn't want Eli to have to go through a split the way his four siblings had. She knew that meant waiting. Sharing. For now - but she loved Elliot's kids more than he really knew, and this was where they were. Besides, as a woman who had spent so much of her life alone, she was no stranger to uncomfortable compromises. It was better than nothing. Or so she kept telling herself.

"I know," he echoed softly, not sure where that left them.

Olivia rolled over until she was on her back next to him. "Everything would be so different, if Kathy had never gotten pregnant with Eli."

He knew she wasn't saying it to hurt him. She loved Eli. Not only that, she was right - the timing had been terrible. The two of them would be in a entirely different place if he hadn't slept with Kathy that night. Liv hadn't been back that long, and he had been a coward - unable to bring himself to tell Liv how he felt while he was still single.

And there he had found himself again, a man left without any choices, only duty.

"I'm sorry," he told her, not for the first time.

"Don't apologize, Elliot."

"Because everything happens for a reason?" he chuckled.

"Something like that, yeah." She shifted her gaze back to the window and the moonlight.

El watched her, words caught in his throat, their situation so unsteady. He propped himself up, finally, as she had done, leaning over her. She loved when he was over her, his chest was a wide, hard respite from the things she struggled to let go of.

"Liv."

She turned her head back to look up at him.

"Are you sure I can make you happy this way?"

Olivia held his blue eyes for a long, long time. Then she reached up, scratching her fingers along the shadow of the scruff on his jaw. He closed his eyes, feeling desire for her bloom in his belly all over again.

"El, I've loved you for . . . a very long time," she said carefully. "Even before I had as much of you as I do now. Sure, I don't wanna do things this way forever - "

El raised an eyebrow at the use of 'forever' and smirked. Liv rolled her eyes at him.

" - but this is real life, El. There isn't always a plan. Sometimes all you can do is ride things out as they come. Hardly anything changes overnight."

He nodded, acknowledging her, still thinking too hard for the late hour.

"Did you fall in love with me overnight?" she asked, grinning at him.

"No . . . and yes," El considered, surprising her. "I knew my life had changed, the day you walked into the unit. But it was longer for me to realize how much I needed you." He leaned in, kissing her mouth, his free hand cupping her hip. "How I couldn't live without you," he whispered.

Moved, she wondered when that had been. _How_ that had been. Gitano? When she'd found her brother and disappeared to Philadelphia? Or maybe there really was no one magic moment - maybe everything that had brought them together was a series of moments that there was no purpose in trying to define.

Olivia pulled El down onto her, making their bodies line up. He was hard again and she sighed at the feel of him against her. She kissed him again. "Make love to me, Elliot," she demanded, holding his gaze with hers. "Let tomorrow sort itself out."

It wasn't a plan, the way Elliot thought he wanted. Nothing felt like a certainty. But as she shifted below him, arching her curves to meet his hard lines and planes, it felt like home in a way that nothing ever had. Every day with Liv was a new journey in freeing the tender things he had been forced to wall up.

His father, now himself - each man had their own fractured legacy to answer for. Elliot had often wondered if, given enough time, he could heal any of it - his lacking marriage, Kathleen, his mother, any number of victims who'd gotten too close. For the first time, he was learning to live with the unknown, and everything that meant.

 _Let tomorrow sort itself out._

Rolling over with his arms still around her, he pulled Liv with him, on top of him, and she giggled, her smile wide.

 _Yeah_ , his mind answered, melting at her smile, _I can live with that_.

 **A/EN: I just want to say** **an extra-special thank you to all of you who have followed me all the way to the end of this. This fic is the longest thing I've managed to write in about six years or so, after a long battle with some medical issues. My challenge to myself, when I started this, was to write a story that could fit into the chronological order of the Season 10 episodes, starting with Lunacy. I firmly believe that Olivia and Elliot were sleeping together in seasons 11 and 12, so this story was my imagining of how that could have started. While I'm not normally into stories where Elliot does stay with Kathy, I couldn't have him leave her for this, because it didn't fit with the timeline of 11 and 12. Someday I'd also like to tackle a story where Liv and Elliot get pregnant, but this outing was for something else. Hopefully that answers some of the questions you might have had, for those who were disappointed in the direction of the ending. Haha Your encouragement and reviews have been great. I appreciate you all very much. My next couple of pieces will probably be shorter, one or two-shot smut fluffs to give myself a break. Join me, won't you? =} - M.**


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